Lost
by nicayal
Summary: It started with an argument that never should have happened, followed by his world falling to pieces all around him. Separated from his family, Sora finds himself face-to-face with the unforgiving elements — and a boy who communicates without uttering a word, whose motives are just as unclear. AU SoRiku
1. Chapter 1

**N.B.** I think by now it's clear I can't do drabbles, or even legit one-shots. This time, I can't even guarantee this is going to be a two-parter. I'm just going to keep plugging away at this thing until it's done and make no promises as to length (rough guesstimate is between 30K and 50K words though).

Originally written for AkuRokuRiSo Month 2015. It just got a tad out of hand, like usual. Remind me: what is brevity again?

 **Prompt** : Lost  
 **Main pairing** : SoRiku  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Prompter** : theisraelproject107

* * *

It started with an argument that never should've happened. He never should have strayed so far from the rest of his group either, or let Roxas storm off on his own. By the end of a single day, Sora had managed to collect so many "shouldn't haves" he'd have been able to feed his entire community, if only behavioral negligences were composed of some form of substantive sustenance.

He'd been mindful of their route at first, truly, had kept his eyes trained on the ground as they walked, on the lookout for edibles, and for plants all community members had been taught to retrieve for Aerith the moment they'd been old enough to take instructive directions. A full repository of herbal supplies meant a better chance that Aerith could treat injuries they sustained, that she'd be able to heal the inevitable illnesses that were associated with the harsh life they lived.

Moreover, Aerith always rewarded the most prolific collectors among them, both with praise and a share of her evening meal, a portion large enough to make constant vigilance worth the effort for Sora. Times were lean and food was in many ways akin to sacred; this was no major revelation for any among them.

Without question though, times were far worse for someone with a sickly brother. Roxas could use as much extra nourishment as Sora could obtain for him, whether it came from halving his own paltry meal quota or a show of gratitude on Aerith's part. The latter just meant Sora was less likely to go hungry himself, at least for one day. That was as much as any of them could really hope for.

The further they got from the beach, however, the fewer useful greens they were seeing, and Sora found his thoughts drifting, eyes rising away from the ground and beyond the path their community was forging up to the mountains towering charcoal dark against an off-white sky, clear with the promise of impending winter.

He found himself starting to daydream about a handful of things, on becoming a hunter next season, about the anticipation of their evening meal and the subsequent rest period before they rose and began their journey again. Even spirits taking the form of animals crossed his mind, patchwork remnants of Weaver's myriad stories told every evening during the warm months; the subject didn't matter so much as the fact that, once given purchase, the thoughts simply weren't content to reside far enough in the recesses of his mind so that he could effectively multitask.

Partially, it was an inherited trait, something he'd always heard was a gift passed down his line, just as much as it was a curse due to the inattention that came along with it. Usually, dreams were seen as portends, scrutinized for hidden meaning, and heeded if Advisor found prudence in so doing.

If he'd been older, all these dreams, all the ideas that resulted from them, might have been afforded more respect.

As it was, the moment the glassy-eyed expression began manifesting in a manner that was outwardly visible, the only thing these internal images and ideas usually ended Sora up with was a sharp cuff across the back of his neck.

It was hunger as well. Raw and gnawing and ever-present, it was as much a constant as Kairi's and Selphie's persistent chattering, and his brother Roxas' increasingly beleaguered expression as the days of their journey toward Winter Home wore on so slowly.

The lack of food sources had left an impact well beyond their small community. The wildcats were getting bolder, the bears honing their abilities to access kills brought back by the hunters. Cloud had even been forced to assign a multi-person overnight detail to keep them from scaling the trees and destroying the spoils of their hunting party's most recent efforts, insufficient enough already to feed all of their group without interference from meddlesome animals.

No one questioned that the ice was driving prey away, as much as it was killing the plants. Also left unspoken but a truth not unnoticed among the least of them was the realization that a pack of wolves had been tailing their procession now for days.

Thus far, they'd been keeping their distance, coming and going usually after nightfall, eyes glinting in the dim luminescence of moonlight. They weren't as overtly ferocious as the wildcats, not as brazen as the bears. What the wolves were was persistent, with at least one of them spotted daily at the wary peripherals of the community's collective vision. What they all knew was these creatures were desperate, just as hungry as the rest of them. No one dared give the observation viability through spoken word, however. No one wanted to give the corresponding conclusion any more validity than was necessary.

To Sora, the wolves were just a part of everyday life as they migrated from their summer settlement to the safety of the winter cave outcroppings. The hunger, too. To an extent, it was all he could remember. The years of plenty had ended when he'd been an infant; all he had now were Weaver's evening stories, and Advisor's sage words that more bountiful days would one day return, if only the spirits could be somehow appeased.

Unconsciously, Sora's eyes drifted away from the ground again, scanning the scattering of trees around them. They were mostly dead this late in the season, their thick trunks with discordant spindly branches reaching skyward as though beseeching the spirits for a tangible form of the same salvation his community was desperately seeking.

Because they'd been silent for too long, the spirits, and even Advisor was becoming increasingly uneasy, although he had yet to share these concerns with the community as a whole. It was in his posturing, in the perplexed expression that remained long after he'd returned from his nightly prayers. If Sora could identify it, others could as well. Probably as a direct result of it, people were quicker to disagreements, to bickering with one another about the most inconsequential of things.

One arm reaching, unconsciously seeking, Sora's hand brushed against the small wooden token secured within his side pack. It also held two small weapons, a stick of flint, and a strip of salted venison from the hunter's last successful return. As much as he was tempted to alter his focus, to retrieve the food and stave off the near constant rumbling his stomach was making for another few hours, he held back, ever mindful that his brother might end up needing it more in the near future.

Instead, he traced the carved token with an index finger and his thumb, one digit steadying the figurine, the other sliding across the top of it lengthwise. At the same time, he found himself surveying their current location, scanning the area out of nervous habit. He hadn't seen the wolves for nearly a day. As Sora shot another glance at his surroundings, he noted that they didn't seem to be present now either.

Just the same, the habitual action of rubbing the token, his most prized possession, brought with it a level of comfort.

As much as he was instinctively fearful, he was also fascinated by the wolves, marveling at the variance in their red and sienna and grey-white markings, admiring the luster of eyes that seemed almost intelligent. Much more plainly, he also could see the hunger written across the physical ridges of their spines, in the angular bones of their narrow haunches and the curve of ribs missing sufficient fat over muscle to conceal them even from the distance from which he observed them. They were skeletons, living, breathing flesh over bones as much as the members in his community were gradually becoming themselves, all victims of the displeasure of spirits they hadn't realized were angry until the damage had already been done, had left them all confused and reeling and increasingly despairing about the certainty of their collective future.

Although he wasn't Advisor, couldn't claim a personal relationship with the spirits, was incapable of appealing to them for benevolence, sometimes Sora feared it was far too late to make up for whatever transgressions had angered them so much in the first place.

Having known about the wolves and other predatory creatures that posed a realistic threat, it had also probably been inadvisable to wander as far as he had on his daily excursion for Aerith that morning. But Sora had never been one to think about the consequences of his actions before they'd taken tangible form. By then, it was usually too late to take them back; in that way, his own behaviors mirrored his thoughts about their current situation with the communal spirits. It seemed somehow ironically appropriate when he looked back on it later.

In his defense, Cloud had granted even younglings like him permission to break from the group in search of herbs for Aerith and supplemental food for all of them. It was encouraged to move further afield from the procession and gather anything that may have evaded their watchful eyes the first time by retracing their steps, as long as they went with at least one other, and Sora had been with Roxas. It was allowed. This was fine.

It should have been, at any rate. What it turned out to be instead was just another "shouldn't have" to add to his growing collection.

With his snailish ambling and dour expression, it'd felt like Roxas was holding up his progress, even though Sora knew he should've been more patient. His brother had only recently gotten over an illness, one they had all feared would be his last this time. It very well might have been if not for Aerith's dedicated attention. Apart from the prospect of a larger meal portion, this was precisely why Sora knew how crucial it was to continue searching out the plants she needed, to bring her back as many as they could find to ensure her enduring supply.

Life was short. It was harsh. But it'd be considerably more of both if not for a healer of her apothecary prowess.

Sora knew he shouldn't have been irritated by Roxas' slow progress, because he understood where it derived. Just the same, both were young and impulsive, tempers short from continued hunger. They'd fought and exchanged biting words neither had meant. Ultimately, Roxas had stormed off, and Sora had found himself at the border of a dead forest and parched-dry plain alone, the mountain range in front of him his only silent, mocking witness to an unnecessary fraternal disagreement.

In the beginning, he'd been more concerned about inciting Cloud's wrath when it got out that he'd disobeyed a direct order to travel in pairs than he was about the prospect of being left by himself. Sora was small, and Sora was young, but if there was one thing he and every other community member knew how to do, it was to defend themselves. He had in his constant possession a well-made sling and a handful of carefully selected stones for felling smaller animals or warding off anything larger, as well as a sharp knife that was useful both for cutting and in instances necessitating close combat. After years of practice with the instruments, Sora was adept enough at both to feel reasonably confident in his abilities. After all, in just one more season, he'd be allowed to join the hunters on more involved food-seeking excursions. By logical extension, he was practically an adult himself then.

He also had his wooden token and the aeriform personification of the spirit it invoked. Everything would be fine, he assured himself without much overt concern as he made his way in the direction he'd last seen the main procession of community members.

He hadn't expected the violent quaking beneath his feet any more than he'd anticipated the ear-splitting sound of rocks tumbling, of the earth opening, angry and cavernous in front of him. Unable to maintain balance amid the relentless shaking, Sora fell to his knees, wrapped his hands over his neck as he cowered, trembling, and silently implored the world to right itself.

It couldn't have lasted longer than a few shuddered breaths. By the time the ground stilled and Sora was brave enough to open his eyes again, a short-lived eternity seemed to have passed, and nothing seemed quite the same as he remembered it. The mountains seemed different, less rotund, more boulders spread out and closer to him than they'd once been. The earth had opened in myriad places, and the ground around him was littered with everything from small veins and cracks to fissures large enough for him to fall into if he wasn't mindful of each and every step.

Sora stared, tried to make sense of what had just happened. Advisor might have said it was a sign, spirit-sent. Weaver would have explanations to spin into drawn-out tales that would delight the tykes for days.

But Roxas …what would Roxas say? Had he felt this, too? What about the rest of his community? His mother…

With a growing sense of dread, Sora stood on quivering legs and darted forward. He ran without slowing, dodging in and out of the petrified forest and around newly formed ground cracks, deer hide foot coverings slapping a muffled sound against the dry grass beneath both feet. Sora ran until he was nearly out of breath, ran as though he were being chased by a wildcat, dipping and darting around familiar landmarks on his way back to the last place he'd seen his group.

It was only when he came to the spot where he and Roxas had departed on their initial trek, only when he tread over the ground already worn smooth by the feet of other community members, that he slowed to a stop and took in his newfound surroundings.

They weren't where he'd seen them earlier that morning. Not Roxas. Not any of them.

Blinking a little in the direct line of glaring sunlight, Sora squinted and twisted, looking every visible direction around him.

Nothing. None of the familiar sounds of the gatherers, no noises that a community of this size would traditionally make. No trace of anyone. Despite his fatigue, Sora continued on, tracking the path his community had made, moving as quickly as possible, a feeling of foreboding building within him the further forward he traversed.

So focused on the trail immediately in front of him, Sora almost missed the gaping hole and the last jagged edge of solid earth in front of it until he'd nearly careened over it. As it was, it took considerable effort to check his balance, arms flailing, muscles in both legs tensing to keep himself upright and on solid ground.

Once steady, he simply stared, overwhelmed by the size of the jagged aperture as much as he was certain he couldn't realistically jump over it. He paced the length of it, eyeing the build-up of rocks on the far bank that blocked the path his community usually took toward the winter caves, then peered into its impervious depths, eyes straining to see if he could make out anything. Or anyone. In a moment of desperation, he called out, then held his breath, waiting for a responding shout.

The silence was stagnant, the realization it brought with chokingly unrepentant.

He was alone, and for the first time since he'd parted ways with Roxas, Sora had the good sense to feel frightened.

o - o

He wasn't sure how long he'd wandered, emotionally shifting between panicked and listless. He couldn't say how many times he'd retraced their earlier path, then forged onward, making a roundabout journey he hoped might get him back on track toward the route they'd taken last season, before Sora was willing to admit that he was adrift, and that no one was coming for him.

They'd been separated in late morning, he and Roxas. Sora knew that much. By mid-afternoon, it was becoming increasingly obvious how little time remained before the sun began setting, before it ceded to night and he'd need to seek some form of shelter from the bitter weather that came standard with this seasonal interim before winter.

That wasn't even accounting for the nocturnal predators he was well aware were roaming the area, the lupine opportunists in particular that were simply waiting for an opening, a sign of weakness from a vulnerable creature. Stifling fear deriving from that realization alone necessitated an impressive allocation of his mental reserves so he could focus on what he had to do to keep himself moving forward, to finding shelter before impending night.

Despite his brisk pace, the mountains still seemed so far away. The shifting of earth that afternoon had brought with it a new, rockier terrain, however, boulders and even stone hills that seemed much closer. These rocky outcroppings became Sora's short-term aim. Whether he'd find a haven there so close to the dead forest and exposed plains, he couldn't say. He also had no alternative.

With a watchful eye on his surroundings and gaze trained up toward his destination, no longer searching the ground for a hint of anything edible, Sora forced himself to increase his pace again, despite his increasing hunger and the intermittent, cramping spasms in his back and legs. He forced himself to devise his own path toward what he could only hope would ultimately lead him back toward his community and their winter home all on his own.

o - o

It wasn't a cave he discovered so much as a crevice, a narrow divot that led deeper into one of the newly formed stone hill's rocky interiors. A tall but narrow fissure, it was suitable for no more than a small band of people to huddle inside at a time.

With only an hour or so left until dusk ceded to pitch-black night, it was also his only viable option for temporary shelter.

He spent the remaining daylight in search of kindling, breaking off branches and stripping bark from trees with his knife, even gathering dry grass and what little moss he could find this close to the craggy rocks. Although he was tired, the ache in his stomach pronounced, Sora worked at a brisk pace, knowing he'd need to collect enough to ensure the fire he created could last through the night.

What was a little discomfort, after all, when the alternative was far worse, much more enduring in its permanence?

He was situated by nightfall, perched at the ledge of the rock opening, grateful that the formation was shaped in such a way that the overhang extended out into the open enough to ensure any smoke his fire emitted would drift skyward and not into the enclosed space where he planned to wait out the dark.

Sitting crosslegged in front of a small bed of kindling he'd collected, hunching his shoulders up to help cover more of his neck with the fur lining of his clothing's outer shell, Sora reached into his pack and pulled out a flint stick and his knife. With a few quick slicing motions, he watched the shavings fall from his piece of flint into a small pile on the mound in front of him. Flipping his knife from sharp end to flat, he held the flint stick with his other hand and began the process of scraping one tool against the other, eyes hawkish as he watched for the telltale signs of sparks that would indicate his efforts were producing a sought-out result.

With concentration so acute he'd unconsciously begun worrying his teeth over the bottom of his lip as he kept up the dogged striking of both fire-producing instruments, Sora was wholly unaware of the pair of eyes on him. They watched from a safe distance, hidden by cover of a dead and dying forest, glinted when tilted at just the right angle in the muted light of a rising moon.

The first spark was a gift to him, a blessing, perhaps indicating approval and sent from the spirits Advisor had always said watched over him and the rest of their community. Angling his hands toward the kindling bed, Sora struck the flint again with the same technique that'd elicited the first dancing flurry of orange-red. The next two sparks caught, and with lightning quickness, Sora turned, reached for the larger supplies that he had plans to use to feed the fire for the remainder of the time he spent in this makeshift shelter.

The initial kindling burned quickly, and Sora was careful to ensure he got the bark and larger tree branches into the bed before it sputtered out. The moment he realized he'd been successful, he smiled his first smile since losing Roxas. It was an expression of self-satisfaction, of relief, followed quickly by an unavoidable sense of full-body exhaustion that even outweighed his lingering hunger.

Assured that he had at least a few hours before he needed to add more branches to the small fire, Sora shuffled away from the opening, a few body lengths deeper into the day-old crevice. His fatigue was palpable, almost paralyzing, and Sora found himself shivering in the ascetic cold of the stone hill's core, uninterested in even the prospect of making a meal from the salted meat he still carried along in his pack. Aware it was in his best interests to stay awake, he curled onto his side anyway, shaking from a combination of chill and pent-up concern about what had happened to the others, to Roxas in particular. Thin arms wrapped themselves around his own concave chest, hugging himself as substitution for a brother who usually performed the same gesture of affection toward him.

Eyes fixed on the licking blaze of the fire's hypnotic flames, Sora found his awareness drifting, shapes around him dissolving and flickering out of focus; the world was swaying, spinning, giving him the distinct sense that stones and boulders were about to crumble all around him, that soon he'd be free-falling indefinitely, limbs flailing and useless in front of him. Still shivering, one hand slipped lower, down to the pouch at his side, digits searching for the familiar smoothness of his wooden token.

Fingers curling around the small figurine, his eyes slipped closed of their own volition. Although the feeling of weightlessness didn't dissipate completely, it abated enough to offer a sense of temporary security. For the time being, that was all his weary mind, his grieving soul, needed to give in and succumb to unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

His sleep was fitful and restless, dreams scattered, tumultuous. In them, Sora was back with his family by the sea at Summer Home. He was supervising the tykes and teaching them to swim, showing them how to hold their breath and dive for mussels along the sea's gritty floor. He was laughing with friends around a communal fire after evening meals while stealing glances at the older ones, listening as they told their own stories, regaling others about successful hunting campaigns and signs from the spirits that'd ushered with them hard-won victories.

Mostly, Sora dreamt about Roxas.

He saw the two of them sleeping, one on either side of their mother, knees curled into their stomachs, chins tucked beneath a fur blanket to preserve heat. He saw Roxas laughing at Squall's consistent identity mix-ups back when Sora's hair was still the same sun-kissed yellow as his younger brother's was now. He saw himself playing in the sandbar shallows with Kairi and Wakka and Tidus, Roxas tagging along and splashing nearby like the annoying younger sibling he sometimes engendered with such inherent effortlessness. He was feeling fresh concern while standing over his brother's bedside, Aerith nearby, as Roxas fought off sickness after increasingly severe sickness.

The dream warped the reality of their lives, twisting and tilting and reforming until Sora found himself in his brother's position, shivering and feverish in bed, Roxas hovering above him. He felt a gentle hand brush through the hair that crowned his forehead, cool like mountain stone against the unnatural heat of his ailing body.

"I don't want to die."

The words were uttered before he knew his mouth was forming them, and Sora looked up at his brother, pallid arms reaching, stretching up like the branches of a dying tree. Beseeching.

Roxas looked back at him, expression calm, eyes an unfamiliar shade of blue. They reflected the moonlight, preternatural and calculating. He offered a smile, the corners of his mouth subtly lifting, but it wasn't the natural expression Sora was accustomed to seeing from him in times when he was in good health.

"Then stop dreaming," his brother replied. "Open your eyes."

But his eyes already _were_ open; Roxas was making no sense. Sora scanned the space, gaze darting around the small area of their temporary summer dwelling that they'd soon be dismantling and packing to take with them on their journey north.

By the time he looked down again, Roxas had vanished and the wind was increasing in strength, whipping against the loose flap of their tent's entrance. It was howling, and there was a mournful quality to its timbre, an incorporeal keening to the way it brushed against the starchy-stiff material of the dwelling's walls, then faded to almost nothing before returning again.

And through it all, the distinct sense that the sound was building, that something powerful and predatory was advancing on him.

He woke with a sharp gasp and full-bodied jerk, eyes fluttering open, then blinking rapidly to ward off the remnants of disorienting drowsiness. It took him a moment to place his surroundings, to recognize the unfamiliar lines of the stone's fissure in the dim saffron glow permeating the constricting space.

It took him only an instant longer to note the last vestiges of a fire he'd let nearly die out — and to see that he wasn't alone.

The figure was hunched at the crevice entrance, bathed in shadows cast by the remaining firelight. Grey-white hair fell over his face, obscuring identifying features, tendrils extending down below his shoulders, gently swaying, given unearthly sentience by the frenetic wind behind him.

Alarmed, Sora scrambled to his feet, hand seeking out the knife from within the pouch by his side. The obsidian blade flashed as it reflected the dim light, and the intruder seemed to flinch in response to it, shoulders rounding further, body nearly supporting itself on all fours. Sora had only a few nervy seconds to consider gaunt flesh stretched over the ridges of a jutted spine before a slender neck extended, tilted just enough upward for him to see the details of the face it supported.

He was a boy, features angular and sharp. Sora studied them, stance still tense, wariness persisting as he regarded the newcomer from chin and on upward. He took in the sloping jawline, witnessed lips twitching, not so much an intimation of a hesitant smile as they seemed posed to offer a glimpse of bared teeth. With a nose that matched prominent cheekbones, it was his eyes that gave Sora pause. They tapered in either corner, slitted but just enough open to reveal a hint of aquamarine, the same color as his beloved Summer Home sea.

For a moment, Sora stood, transfixed by them, wishing he could see more, wanting to study them closer. The boy moved, just a subtle shift of weight, and Sora remembered himself, recalled the defensive stance in which he was still currently standing.

He also caught sight of a flash of red along one side of the boy's face, an angry color that darkened the closer it got to the roots of long, silvery hair. He realized an instant later that the boy seemed to be bleeding.

The blood was dry, dark, and caked into the interloper's scalp. Mostly hidden beneath his hair, Sora noted the faint traces of red smeared across one side of the boy's face that he'd initially spotted, was able to follow the distinctive pattern to its origin across the back of one of the boy's fisted hands.

In his current inverted position, it was difficult to discern an age or even relative size of this intruder. What he could make out was the boy's rib cage. Just like his spine, the skin was stretched taut across it, and Sora recognized the signs of the same slow starvation that plagued his own long-suffering community. Nevertheless, the boy's tense posture also offered an easy view of arm and leg muscles. Lean but well-defined, they provided a stark reminder that desperation and instinct often made uneasy alliances that paid no heed to a small human obstacle possessing nothing more to defend himself with than a handheld knife and a sling that was effectively useless in such cramped quarters.

Just the same, Sora lowered his weapon a titch. He stood up straighter, legs still braced in the event of an attack, but posture otherwise relaxing.

"Peace…?"

At first, the softly spoken word seemed to have no effect on the boy in front of him, and Sora bit his lip, unsure how to proceed. Just as he'd begun mentally assembling another line of inquiry, he heard the boy sigh. It was a quiet sound, shuddered and low, and followed by the widening of guarded eyes that seemed determined not to meet his own for longer than a few moments in each go-around. The boy relaxed his shoulders, leaning back to balance more fully on his heels. He remained there for a moment, surveying the fissure's interior, eyes traveling over Sora on their way around the small space. Uncertain, but assessing.

Then, without a word, the boy finally stood.

He was taller than Sora had anticipated, shoulders much broader than they'd appeared when hunched a mere arm-length distance from the stone floor.

And naked, not a strip of clothing on him, the boy's body was completely exposed to the harsh elements just beyond his makeshift, mountainous haven.

Forgetting himself and the circumstances he'd abruptly woken up to, Sora furrowed his brows. "Aren't you cold?"

The boy glanced at him again, this time out of the corner one eye. Still, he said nothing. After a stagnant pause, however, he did seem to shrug, the action awkward, a jerky movement of shoulders rising to his ears, then lowering back into what seemed like his default preference of a slouching position. It had been such a delayed response that Sora couldn't be certain his question had been fully understood.

Tempted to speak again, Sora hesitated, trying to weigh his options. This boy was larger than him, looked stronger and older. In a fair fight, Sora held no illusions that he'd come out the victor.

Their current circumstances had nothing to do with fairness though and, as far as he could tell, the boy had no weapons on him. He was also injured, although Sora couldn't currently tell how gravely. Although completely unclothed, the boy wasn't shivering, just holding himself upright, posture a little awkward, expression impassive as he watched Sora from the fissure's entrance.

Making a quick decision he hoped he wouldn't regret later, Sora pocketed his knife, nestling it back in his pouch beside his cherished token, then began to make his way toward the entry.

The boy skirted away at his approach, a few steps closer to the opening, his frame silhouetted by moonlight, hair almost shining with even the subtlest of movements.

"It's okay." Sora held up both hands to show he was unarmed. "I just need to build up the fire so it doesn't die."

He couldn't tell if the boy understood everything he was saying, but he did remain in place, eyes still fixed on Sora's approaching movements. He watched as Sora lowered himself down, crossed his legs into a seated position, and reached toward the pile of bark and branches nearby, eyes never wavering as he observed each deliberate step in the fire-making process that Sora performed to encourage it back to its earlier, healthier blaze.

"Were you caught in quake, too?"

Sora glanced up as he spoke, brows rising in inquiry. When the boy persisted in his steadfast silence, eyes darting away again, Sora looked back toward his work on the fire, voice becoming quieter as he continued talking, more for his benefit now than the newcomer's.

"The earth opened where I was walking. It shook and broke apart and reformed. It was… alarming."

 _And I got separated from my community, my family. I might be the only one left._

Swallowing hard, Sora kept the final admission to himself. He'd never have admitted even what little he had now in front of Roxas. He was older, was expected to set an example of fearlessness. Just the same, it felt good to talk through it in the presence of a stranger, someone who didn't seem interested in responding back — or perhaps even incapable of doing so.

Sora look up again just in time to see the boy crouch down a few short paces away from him, forearms hovering over bent knees, hair tumbling forward across his ears and narrowing to straggly points at the crest of the upper half of his chest. Quietly pleased with the development, he turned back to the fire, reaching for his flint stick and knife, acutely aware of the eyes still fixed on him.

"That's how you got that gash on your head, right? I think I was lucky I didn't get hurt."

This time, Sora didn't turn as he spoke, too intent on striking his flint in just the right manner, in directing the sparks onto the kindling, to look elsewhere. Feeling the heat of infant flames given their first taste of oxygenated life, Sora smiled a little, proud of himself, then stood to survey the result of his efforts.

The fire was small but stronger than it had been when he'd first woken, flames licking at the edges of the kindling fuel he'd offered them as supplication. He'd fed the fire enough to last for another few hours, hopefully until dawn arrived and brought the safety of better visibility along with it.

Security now didn't mean finding his family tomorrow though, and he acknowledged there was a very real chance they might not have survived the quake. He'd seen no traces of them since diverging from their seasonal route. As much as he didn't want to consider the reality that he might be the only one left, Sora knew there was a realistic chance that even if he did manage to make the remaining few days' journey to Winter Home, he might arrive only to discover he was still all alone.

Or mostly alone, he thought, gaze flickering to his left for a quick instant before returning to the burning embers in front of him.

Satisfied that his work was sufficient to keep the fire going until morning, Sora found himself stifling a yawn. He turned toward where the boy had last been seated, intent to suggest they both get some rest — only to find that he was already standing, silent, mere inches away from him.

Sora started, making an undignified sound that Roxas never would have let him live down as he made an instinctive, stumbling retreat. The boy's stance shifted from cautious to defensive in an instant, posture transforming, upper body dipping closer to the ground, heels rising until he was balanced on the pads of his feet. In that moment, Sora could see how he'd mistaken the boy for being younger and smaller than he truly was. He had a way of bowing into himself as he crouched; this was also a position that didn't seem to effectively lend itself to carrying a weapon. Sora had learned as a tyke to brace his legs, to keep his feet planted and give himself a stronger foundation from which to move his upper body. This boy was doing just about the opposite.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He offered the words in as soothing a tone as he could manage, given the erratic fluttering of his own unfettered heartbeat. "You just startled me. You're so quiet…"

To be fair, Sora reasoned, he wouldn't have made much noise either if he weren't covered in layer after layer of late-season attire. Not only was he wearing long standard inner and outer stratum body coverings, he was also outfitted in an interim coat, something that was more suitable at their summer home when worn on its own. The impermanence of his community's seasonal settlements dictated an 'only what you can reasonably carry' ideal of property ownership. Beyond what was with him now, Sora's sole possession was a pack that held a change of clothing and a small supply of flint sticks, which he'd transferred to his mother before heading further afield with Roxas the day before.

It wasn't much, but it had always sufficed, and Sora was proud of the belongings he could call his exclusively.

This boy, on the other hand, seemed to possess nothing at all. He boasted no perceivable family or communal group, not even something as fundamental as clothing.

Despite his earlier irritation with Roxas, and despite the subsequent fear for his peoples' safety and the persistent anxiety that came with gnawing hunger, Sora felt a twinge of guilt at his own enduring health in the face of this boy's injury, and the overall wretchedness of his physical appearance. Sympathy welled up within his chest just imagining what might have happened to make the boy so wary and skittish now.

With that in mind, Sora offered one of the few things he still knew for certain in a world that seemed bent on changing so drastically by the hour of late.

"I'm Sora." He uttered his name like a tentative gift, unsure of its suitability, or relevance. "What's your name?"

Expression unchanging, the boy didn't move or respond, didn't so much as blink, eyes still fixed on the lower half of his face. Untrusting.

Where the boy was a vision of wary rigidity, Sora had always found it difficult to remain in one place or even position for very long. A bundle of lively energy, that's what his mother's hearthmate had called it, eyes smiling, expression teasing.

Once he'd tentatively determined that the boy wasn't an immediate threat, true to form, Sora had begun wringing his hands, bouncing his knees a little to rock between the arches and heels of both feet. It wasn't until he saw a subtle flinch in response to an inadvertently cracked wrist joint that Sora decided to try a different tack.

"I have food."

Although his words were barely above a whisper, silvery brows rose, bony shoulders seeming to quiver as though the statement itself had physically grazed him. Despite the dire situation and the realization that his words might imply he had enough to share when, in reality, the sole strip of jerky wouldn't suffice to fully feed even just one of them, Sora found himself starting to smile for the first time since being separated from Roxas. In times like these, food was a universal language, of sorts. This was also the first real indication that his words were being understood, he felt, even if the boy hadn't yet deigned to respond back.

"It's not a lot," he said, hanging his head slightly. When the boy's eager expression didn't dim at the admission, Sora felt emboldened enough to continue. "But we can share what I do have."

He turned, started to sidle his way back toward where he'd fallen asleep earlier that evening.

"Come on," he called. "There's more space further back, and it's a little warmer away from the wind."

Without looking at the boy, Sora angled his way toward the back of the stone shelter, opening his side pack as he walked. Although he heard nothing, he could sense the boy's presence nearby, could feel the subtle shift in the air as silent feet followed a few steps behind him.

He lowered himself to a seated position, gestured for the boy to join him, then stuck a hand into his pack, well aware of the pair of eyes following his every movement. Reaching inside, Sora took a moment to brush against his token, to seek reassurance that what he was doing in halving his only form of sustenance was an appropriate form of action on his part.

It _felt_ right, at least, the idea of offering something to someone in need. As his hand emerged with the piece of salted meat, Sora couldn't help but feel like a big brother again, offering up what was his to bolster the health of another, even though this boy was probably older than him.

Unwrapping the thin strip of bark that kept it from soiling the other items he carried, Sora tore the meat in two, offering the larger piece to the boy crouched next to him.

The boy reached out, took it from him with both hands, held it in such a way that Sora found himself looking more closely, wondering if his new companion might be suffering some sort of physical defect.

Bent at the second knuckle, each finger curled slightly inward toward the digit beside it, some overlapping while others were positioned beneath, and both thumbs were almost obscured by the boy's palms entirely. A second inspection confirmed their existence, pressed so severely against the pads of each hand that Sora could see the detail of each bone, skin pulled bloodless white across the joint that connected each thumb to the boy's hand as a whole. From a distance, it had been easy to mistake as two hands curled into fists.

As Sora ate his own few bites of jerky, he watched the boy struggle to bring the food up to his mouth. Without the use of his thumbs, both hands worked to balance the food offering, and shoulders hunched forward to aid in the inclination of his head before he could take his first bite.

The new angle gave Sora a better view of the injury he'd seen earlier. Finishing off his last bite of food, he studied it further, eyes narrowing in the dim light in an attempt to assess its severity. Originating above his right eye, Sora followed the smear of blood across the boy's face on up, noted how the shade deepened the closer his gaze traveled to the crown of his head. There the trail coalesced, the blood thickening beneath matted grey hair. It no longer seemed to be actively bleeding, just offered an ominous view, a sizable clot of ichor black.

The crevice's interior was too dark to provide a solid view of what the injury encompassed, the boy's hair too thick of a cover where it originated to see clearly anyway. Not stopping to consider how the action might be interpreted, Sora leaned forward, reached out, then tentatively brushed away a tendril of blood-caked hair with two gentle fingers.

The boy jerked away from him in one violent movement, eyes flashing, what remained of his food abandoned on the stone floor between them.

"Sorry! I'm sorry." Sora raised his hands, palms out, tried to keep his voice level as he spoke. From his new position, back pressed against the far wall of their stone shelter, a low sound emitted from the deep recesses of the boy's throat.

Sora listened, keen to hear the boy speak, despite the circumstances that had invoked the reaction. Just as quickly, it faded, until nothing was audible beyond the sound of his quick, shallow breathing and the subsequent exhale of a disappointed sigh on Sora's part.

"I just wanted to see how badly you were hurt …if you'd let me look at it, maybe I could help."

This time, Sora wasn't surprised when his comment didn't elicit any response, verbal or otherwise.

In some odd way, this reminded him of Roxas, pushing away anyone who tried to comfort him in the throes of fevered delirium. And what, Sora asked himself, had Aerith done when Roxas wouldn't let so much as his own mother near him, when he'd all but weakly fought to keep people from touching him, arms thrashing, an incoherent string of words rasping from a throat raw with illness?

He remembered her methods all too well, had disagreed with them at the time, found them pitiless and harsh when he'd believed Roxas would have benefited from a softer tone.

Despite the empathy he'd initially felt for the boy, Sora found himself growing increasingly frustrated. He was hungry and thirsty, tired and frightened and, despite the enduring unknown associated with his community's whereabouts, to an extent also in shock and grief-stricken. It was perhaps the only reason his eyes narrowed now, that a scowl began to form and direct itself across the short distance between the two of them.

"Come _here_." The directive was barked, the cutting tone a surprise to even Sora himself. More importantly, it seemed to have an effect on the other boy, head quirked and regarding him with a little less defensiveness as he took a tentative step back Sora's way.

Good. Now they were getting somewhere.

Channeling as much of Aerith's no-nonsense authority as he could muster, Sora sat up straighter, allowed the light scowl on his face to remain.

"Come here," he said again. "You're not done eating, and we both need to get some sleep soon."

The boy obeyed, slowly approaching, eyes still darting around the small space as though he expected to be ambushed. Despite the lingering wariness, he lowered himself to the ground again, this time into an odd half-lying, half-seated position that, to Sora, looked anything but comfortable.

Keeping his movements slow and exaggerated so the boy had ample time to see what he was doing, Sora reached for what remained of the jerky, unable to fully suppress the longing from his own features as he handed it back over to the boy next to him. What little he'd eaten hadn't been nearly enough to stave off the hunger that'd been building since the last full meal he'd eaten, now over a full day ago.

This time, the boy held the jerky strip a little more adeptly, although he still wasn't using his thumbs to secure his grip on it. Sora watched, satisfied as the food was finished off in a few quick bites, eyes traveling first to the head injury he still couldn't get an adequate view of between the cover of silvery hair and the lingering dark. From there, he surveyed further, gaze moving down to the exposed skin of bare shoulders. Maybe it was the poor lighting within their current confines, but the boy's skin had a gray, ashy pallor to it that made him nervous. Sora found himself wanting to reach out again, to run his fingers over just a small section of it, to see if the color derived from cold or the effects of a terminal fever.

After the boy's last reaction at being touched, Sora didn't dare. Nothing about the boy's actions implied he might attack Sora; the skittish demeanor instead reminded him more of a scared animal.

He also wasn't ignorant of the fact that cornered animals were often unpredictable, that in times of acute desperation, even the most harmless of creatures could pose a threat as they lashed out in an attempt to defend themselves. This boy wasn't an animal, Sora conceded, but he also wasn't convinced at this juncture that he would be able to reason with him if he started to panic either — or properly defend himself due to their differences in size in the event that the boy lashed out at him, for any reason.

Sora therefore curbed the urge to reach out again. Instead, his hands rose to his own chest. The boy's eyes followed as he reached for the tie on his outer layer of clothing, watched as Sora pulled the thick tendon strings that held the garment together, gaze following the coat as he shrugged out of it and it slid down his back, pooling in fleecy rivulets on the ground around his crossed legs.

Quickly retrieving it, Sora held it out toward the boy with both hands. For his part, the boy leaned away but didn't move to retreat again.

"Take it."

Although his voice had leveled out, words less harsh in their current locution, Sora's expression remained unwavering, leaving no room for protestations in any form that they might come. "It's freezing outside," he continued, tone reasonable. "You won't last long without any type of covering."

Once again, the boy obeyed, movements hesitant as he took the coat Sora was offering. For a moment, he simply eyed it, spread out over one forearm while he brushed the back of his blood-smeared hand against its fur-lined exterior.

"Put it on."

This time, Sora's tone was encouraging. But the boy's expression shifted from his default cautious to outright bewilderment. He looked up from the garment, over at Sora, then down to the undercoat he was still wearing before returning to the coat Sora had just lent him. Sora watched, feeling somewhat confused himself. There was no way — no conceivable possibility — that this boy hadn't worn clothing before, no chance he wouldn't have frozen to death as a child if members of his community didn't cover themselves. Maybe there was less need for garments if he hailed from the region that encompassed the peninsula south of where his own community called Summer Home, Sora conceded. Not this far north though; it simply wasn't feasible to survive the elements without layers that preserved body heat.

Slowly, the boy managed to wriggle his hands into the coat sleeves, and next his arms. He was putting it on backward, but Sora was too tired to correct him. It would still keep him warm, he figured, and maybe the boy would even let him explain the proper way to wear it come morning, or at least allow him to secure the ties so it wouldn't fall off his shoulders.

"Good," Sora murmured, unconsciously abandoning the sharpness in his tone as he uncrossed his legs and reached for his supply pouch. "We should try to sleep now. Then we can locate water and go hunting tomorrow."

Although the boy seemed to perk up at the tail end of his sentence, Sora was too exhausted to notice. He simply unwound his pouch from its place on his pants loop, this time not even pausing to touch his token before lying down. Curling one arm up to cradle the side of his head as a makeshift pillow, his eyes closed almost immediately once he'd found an adequately comfortable position.

"We would both stay warmer if we slept side by side," he said, voice becoming softer with every successive word. "But it's fine if you'd rather not."

If the boy responded in any way, if he even moved an inch from his seated position nearby, Sora was unaware of it. Thoughts drifting in every direction, body relaxing as much as was possible in light of the rough stone crevice flooring, the last thing his consciousness offered up was an image of Roxas, expression the same controlled, unfamiliar look he'd seen in his dream earlier, eyes not so much bright sky blue as they were the cyan of his beloved Summer Home sea, an environment that reminded him of happier, safer, warmer times surrounded by those he trusted, and those who loved him as much as he did them.

o - o

He couldn't be sure how many hours had passed before he opened his eyes again, body quivering, face flushed with the heat of foreign warmth. The intensity of the sensation was unusual, disorienting, and Sora found it difficult to fully wrest himself from the last vestiges of sleep when the air was so warm around him.

It took him a moment longer to realize the steady rise and fall of breathing was coming from behind him, rather than from his own body; same for the heat radiating outward.

 _So-ra_ …

The word echoed in his mind, reverberated into his throat and down his spine. The speaker's voice had an odd cadence, not so much a different accent as an odd articulation. The tone was hoarse, the syllables of his name uttered slowly as if aiming to sever one from the other, spoken as two words, each autonomous of the other.

He felt caged between the voice and the boy behind him, at the same time engulfed by a sense of incorporeal surreality, of uncertainty that he wasn't still dreaming even now.

 _Sora_.

This time, there was more sureness behind the word, a caressing confidence to the way it was enunciated.

"Yes," Sora whispered, allowing the tremors of each iteration to carry him further toward the drowsy insentience he'd just been roused from. "I'm called Sora. What's your name?"

The voice repeated his name just one more time, the final syllable a fading echo, a rolling, deep-throated rumble against the canal of his spine. As if obeying an order, Sora's body responded, eyes fluttering before closing entirely.

By the time the voice spoke again, Sora's breathing had steadied, his physical body becoming still once more as conscious thought dissolved, ceded to the interim realm between wakefulness and dreaming. By the time the voice returned to him, Sora was fast on his way to sleep, and one step closer come morning to wondering if he'd dreamed the entire exchange.

 _I am called Ri-ku_.

Riku, he thought. The name sounded unusual. Exotic.

He wanted to consider it further, perhaps ask other questions about the speaker's identity. Like waves crashing against his summer home's shore, exhaustion washed over him, however. It overcame his last meager hold on consciousness, and Sora remembered nothing further.


	3. Chapter 3

Apart from the group, Sora sat, watching the comings and goings and conversations taking place around him. It was a hazy dusk, with only the barest hint of orange still lingering before Beiwe took her leave and left their world in temporary darkness for the remainder of the evening, singularly reliant on the communal fire built up around a sandy pit at Summer Home's epicenter.

It had been a good day, Sora acknowledged, but also one of their last at this site. Tomorrow they would rise early; the temporary summer shelters would be dismantled, the thick skin hides that encompassed each tent's wall rolled up and secured to packs carried on community member backs along with all other belongings that would be making the journey north with them. Although no one was drying berries or nuts beside the fire tonight, Kairi having completed her last batch the evening prior, Sora could still smell the harmonious scents of cedar and lingonberry in the air around him. It mixed with the tang of packed sea salt, although any meat reserves had also already been stored away as of a day ago. Tonight was about conversation and resting, one of the few days of the season where they were expected — even encouraged — to do nothing. It would be back to work of a different sort tomorrow as they migrated toward Winter Home, meeting the impending cold with the well-practiced dignity of a people who knew their place in the natural world order.

There was a sense of melancholy to this night for him. Sora liked Winter Home well enough, enjoyed the respite from daily gathering and hunting small game, both activities that became more of a challenge as the warm season wore on and the best sites for each got picked over from frequent visits. Going further afield meant expending more physical resources, using up additional energy which, in turn, required more nourishment to balance out with. That was something he wouldn't miss. Community members were also careful to take no more than was needed, to ensure everything removed from its natural habitat had an overarching purpose, from food to clothing and even reusable household items. Their precautions should have been more than adequate to guarantee a replenished supply of game and greens during the cold season when they lived and hunted elsewhere.

It should have been, but for the past two seasons it hadn't, and Cloud had recently announced their permanent departure in favor of finding a new summer settlement next season.

Although Sora knew it was a wise decision, although he knew another summer in the same place would constitute more hunger for all of them, it was with a note of sadness that he viewed his surroundings this evening for one of the final times. He'd been born near this sea inlet, understood the ebbs and flows of its tides with a fluency that bordered on intimate. He knew the best locations for fishing and diving for mussels, was acutely aware of the exact spots where the sandbar fell off and ceded to cerulean depths and a sea floor he'd not yet been able to hold his breath long enough to dive down and explore. As he grew, he was getting better at longer and deeper dives. Next season would be the one, he'd always reassured himself. Except this time, next season would encompass an entirely new setting and he'd be starting over from scratch.

While Sora agreed with Cloud's ultimate decision on an objective level, his heart still couldn't help but twinge with impending, unavoidable loss at the announcement.

Blue caught his eye, a glassy cyan reflection sparkling at the behest of the nearby fire. Sora turned, looked up to see Roxas standing above him. His eyes were their rightful bright color this time, a familial blue that rivaled his own. From there, Sora's gaze traveled down, away from his brother's face to the translucent spherule secured in the palm of his hand.

Sora scooted over, moved to the far end on the trunk of petrified wood where he'd been sitting, and Roxas took a seat next to him. Nearby, children were laughing, and both brothers' gazes returned to the fire, Sora taking in Weaver's outstretched arms and exaggerated facial expressions while making a quick game of guessing which lighthearted story he was regaling them with. Whichever one he'd chosen, it was certain to be something they could return to in the coming days when they needed something happier to think about in the midst of their arduous journey.

By now, Sora could have recited most of these tales from memory himself, albeit perhaps not with the lyrical skill Weaver possessed. Most were stories about community ancestors, some involving encounters with spirits associated with their clan. Most of these stories held some form of moral, a directive or a warning against foolish, endangering behavior. Sora's favorites had always been about the tricksters, however, the spirits who teased and took humans on adventures for the sake of their own mysterious whims as much as to stave off the boredom associated with an immortal existence.

With the same routine day after day, Sora was well acquainted with boredom himself. Although he understood the importance of a set routine, that didn't mean his mind wasn't inclined to wander instead of completing daily tasks along with the other younglings, elderly community members, and pregnant women while the hunters came and went on their various campaigns to procure more large-scale game for their group as a whole.

By his side, Roxas shifted, shoulders inclining as his elbows rested on the tops of his legs. Between a thumb and two fingers, he rubbed the smooth surface of the stone he'd won in a competition among friends earlier that summer. They'd found colored stones along the shore during one of their gathering excursions, worn smooth and glassy by sea tides and wet sand over time. There'd been a disagreement over who would keep the blue one, as Sora recalled. It'd come down to Roxas and Hayner and a game they'd named Struggle. Having won, Roxas had gotten to claim his preferred color, subsequently carrying it along with him from that day forward in the same side pack that housed the wooden token of his own personal spirit given animal form.

"You're not looking forward to leaving tomorrow."

It wasn't a question, and Roxas didn't look at him as he spoke. Out of the corner of his eye, Sora glanced at his brother.

"That's right," he freely admitted. "I prefer Summer Home, although there's nothing wrong with the mountains and a season of rest, either."

"Ever agreeable." Roxas laughed a little, and Sora turned to look at him, idly wondering why he'd chosen this as a topic of conversation.

Roxas looked back, a small smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth. Blue eyes seemed somehow wiser, almost knowing, when he next spoke. "But you like the sea more."

Sora nodded slowly, still regarding his brother, trying to place what was different about him. "Yes. I do."

For a time, Roxas said nothing, merely turned back toward the fire, and Sora took the opportunity to consider the timbre of his brother's voice. Over the summer, it had deepened, was almost as low now as his, although there had been times throughout the season when he'd teased Roxas for the way it cracked when he spoke with too much rise-and-fall enthusiasm. Sora remembered the embarrassment of the same experience one season earlier, so it'd been nothing more than good-natured ribbing on his part. After Roxas' most recent illness, he felt less inclined to poke fun at such things now, even if his voice hadn't remained so level and steady throughout the duration of their current exchange.

"What would you say if I told you there are peoples, full communities, who don't migrate every season? How would you feel about staying in one place and building a more permanent settlement?"

"I'd say that sounds like one of Weaver's tales," Sora returned, but his brows furrowed as he considered the dual questions. "Except what's the message behind it? Anyone who chose to live in that manner would reduce their food supply so quickly they would either have to find a new living site or risk starving."

Roxas looked back at him, his expression assured, also patient, as though he were humoring a naive tyke who'd asked an ignorant question that came with an obvious answer.

"They grow their own greens. And they raise the animals through careful breeding."

Going quiet, Sora considered the information. It sounded just plausible enough to be true, he supposed, but still quite outlandish. The idea was so far removed from the reality of his own life it was difficult to fully envision. How Roxas had access to this information was also beyond his ability to guess.

Not in the mood to fight, and disinclined to call his brother out about an overactive imagination, Sora returned to his usual affable default and simply nodded to indicate he'd heard.

"It would be nice to stay here every season," he finally offered. "The journey north is long."

"And perilous," Roxas replied, voice smooth. "There are _so_ many opportunities to get separated, and canids aren't known to show clemency in the midst of a famine."

As their gazes met, Sora blinked, felt a cold trickle of realization chill his body from the neck down to his lower back. Flashes of silvery grey, of sandstone yellow and sienna-red, flickered at his peripherals, along with an assortment of throaty yips, a supplemental hint of ominous, rumbling growls. All the while, Roxas' eyes remained fixed on him, the same familiar blue Sora knew so well just watching, perhaps waiting, for a reaction.

Shaking his head a little to dispel the sense of foreboding that was settling into the pit of his stomach, Sora felt his expression falter, fall into the intimation of a troubled frown.

"We all know how to defend ourselves," he said, trying his best keep his tone just as level as his brother's, to exude nonchalant calm in the face of Roxas' words. "Even if someone got separated, they would be fine until they found their way back to the group."

"Maybe."

There was a subtle sadness to the expression that Roxas adopted, eyes traveling back down toward the stone in his hand. He offered it up, arm rising, palm open toward Sora.

"You should take this."

Baffled, Sora merely looked at it without reaching out. All around him, the setting was blurring, the silhouettes of people becoming indistinct, blending in with the dark amber shades of a dwindling fire. His gaze moved back to Roxas, the only part of his vision still in sharp focus.

"But it's your lucky stone."

Although Roxas smiled in response to his comment, Sora was quick to note that it didn't quite reach the mournfulness that still lingered beneath a crown of yellow-blond hair, encompassed in blue that was usually so expressively jovial in times of good health.

"Yes, it's my lucky stone," Roxas agreed. "But you're about to need it more than me."

o - o

He opened his eyes to the muted light of early morning, Roxas' words still lingering, echoing in the back of his mind.

They weren't alone, for a name remained as well. Like his, it was two syllables, just much more unusual. Exotic.

Locking his legs, calves flexing as he stretched, Sora didn't quite manage to stifle a groan as his sore muscles protested the movement. Just the same, after a moment's pause, he rolled over to wake the boy next to him.

No one was there.

Disoriented, thoughts still half-focused on what he'd been dreaming, Sora glanced around the cramped space that encompassed the stone crevice. Beyond the dying fire and the belongings he had with him when he'd originally happened upon the makeshift shelter, it was like the boy he'd encountered the night before hadn't existed at all.

Except, Sora acknowledged, for his memories; the details of the boy's appearance and expressions were still vivid in his mind — the cold, too. Without the added warmth of his external coat layer, the chill in the air was much more palpable. Sora shivered now from beneath the less substantial inner layers he was still wearing, before pushing himself up into a seated position. He reached for his side pack, securing it into place around his pants loop. Then, a little unsteady, muscles still aching from yesterday's frantic flight after the quake, Sora rose to standing.

Trying to focus his thoughts, to organize them so only the most pressing concerns were at the forefront of his consciousness, he made his way to the entryway. Once there, he spent a brief moment eyeing the last smoldered remains of the fire that had kept him warm and safe throughout the night, before tucking his chin down into the fur-lined collar of his interior coat and heading outside to determine his next move.

He was tempted to allocate some mental resources to considering the events of the night prior, the boy in particular. He'd been tired, caught off-guard; under the circumstances, it was more than possible his mind had begun to play tricks on him the moment he'd started drifting off to sleep. Hunger was no novice at the induction of wishful thinking, and it was no secret that he'd been lonely. While the memory of the boy's sudden presence seemed too real to have been imagined, the words that had been uttered, in a tone most unusual, almost feral, certainly could have been, Sora quietly admitted.

He may also have been willing to entertain theories as to where the boy had gone, with nothing to his name beyond an article of lent clothing, if not for the glimpse of grey-white hair that caught his eye the moment he emerged from the fissure into the subdued light of early morning.

Reclining in the same unusual half-seated, half-lying position, he was still wearing the outer coat although, as Sora had predicted the night before, it lay on him awkwardly, one side having slid down to reveal a bare shoulder. The front of the coat remained open, revealing ashy pale skin over lithe muscles that ran up either side of the boy's spine. Back facing Sora, his neck was craned, head tilted up toward the sky. Sora copied the positioning, eyes catching sight of Aske, and the spherical exemplar of the spirit's physical form. Just as quickly, he averted his gaze. Aske was known to be unpredictable, even dangerous if the whim struck her. As the cold season's Solstice approached and her power superseded that wielded by Beiwe's solar influence, it was unwise to take any chances, Sora figured. Possibly even brazen.

Instead, he focused on the boy. He hadn't moved at Sora's approach, eyes wavering not even once in their fixation on the hazy view of the moon above them both. It seemed as though he was waiting on something, although Sora couldn't imagine what it might be. No one was in view, no sounds audible beyond the natural and ordinary. And somehow, despite the boy's intense concentration, Sora couldn't help but feel that he was anything other than unaware of the new presence making his way over to him. He acted strangely, without question, but there was an intelligence in his eyes, wary and calculating.

If last night's reactions were any indication, he also understood at least some of the words Sora had spoken to him. Hopping off the stone outcropping, Sora approached the base of the rocks where the boy was seated.

"Good day."

When the boy didn't so much as blink, let alone turn his head, Sora repeated the greeting, this time trying out words in the language of the southern peoples his own community sometimes encountered during their time at Summer Home.

Still no response.

Frustrated, Sora kicked at a loose stone underfoot, then hazarded a glance back at the sky. An idea was forming, a name still lingering, specifically, dreamlike but tangible.

And what harm would come in simply uttering a word? He'd spoken so many already, and the worst he'd received in return was the absence of any reaction at all from this stranger.

"Riku…?"

Teal eyes flickered, disappearing briefly as the boy blinked. Inclining his head, then turning, they fixed themselves squarely to meet Sora's before dropping slightly lower.

The response sent a strange surge of hope up into Sora's chest.

"I _thought_ that's what you said your name was last night."

He offered a wide smile, something that had always elicited a similar expression in return among his own community members, but the boy's eyes dropped further, narrowing in tandem with the visible rigidity of newly locked shoulders. Sora abandoned the expression a moment later, chagrined, feeling almost as though he'd just committed some form of avoidable social gaffe. Instead, he brought a hand up, fingers running through his own hair in an idle attempt to untangle it as he pondered the odd reaction.

"I wasn't sure if I was dreaming…"

The admission was quiet, ruminative. A little astonished. The hungrier he got the more likely it was that his thoughts would become confused, that reality would bend itself and start playing tricks on him, which was a dangerous prospect under any circumstances, but these especially. Part of him had truly wondered if the first sign might have been imagining that the boy had introduced himself the night before. Because first it'd be little things, he knew, like thinking a mute boy had spoken to him through means other than verbal speech. That was perhaps harmless enough, Sora acknowledged. It was when he started making poor judgments, miscalculating decisions on his way to Winter Home, that he could start getting in serious trouble. In an environment like this, one wrong move could represent the difference between reuniting with his family and not surviving to see another sunrise.

It was with considerable relief, then, that Sora realized he hadn't imagined hearing the name, despite his exhaustion.

"We should head for water," Sora said, eyes still on the boy in front of him. On Riku, he amended. "We both need a drink, and you should clean your injury before we consider hunting."

The suggestion seemed to assuage whatever misgivings Riku had about Sora's penultimate expression. He stood a moment later, and Sora watched as the coat slipped further down one arm, then off Riku's other shoulder.

With deliberate slowness, he reached out. Riku, in turn, watched the movement with slitted eyes, stance still slightly bowed, defensive.

"I'm going to secure the coat so it doesn't slip." Sora mimed a tying motion. When Riku's posture didn't change, Sora paused, then inclined his head in an attempt to meet his eyes. "I won't touch you. Just the coat. I promise."

Without a word, Riku bobbed his head into another intimation of an assenting nod and twisted his upper body, giving Sora better access to the coat ties.

Maintaining the same careful movements, Sora stepped forward, reaching toward one of the sinew ties that was gently swaying in the aftermath of Riku's recent movement. As he caught the first one, Riku craned his neck and Sora saw another flash of piercing teal, a sign that he was being surveyed out of the corner of one scrutinizing eye.

The way Riku was looking at him sent a nervy sensation down his spine, reminded him of something he couldn't quite place. Trying to shake the uneasy feeling before it settled with more permanence, Sora reached for the tie that corresponded with the one he'd already retrieved, then pulled both toward him, drawing the coat back up and over Riku's exposed shoulders. He made quick work in knotting the first row, efficiently moving his way downward, still taking care not to touch any part of Riku directly. There was a tension in the air between them, and Sora found himself holding his breath as he worked, fingers trembling a little from the chill air around him. Not for the first time, he wished he'd had the foresight to have taken his mittens with him yesterday, or even his wooly-warm hat with flaps that covered his ears and ties that held it in place beneath his chin.

Neither would have been ideal on what he'd assumed was just going to be a short excursion to gather greens; the mittens would have impeded his ability to pull plants from the ground without crushing their leaves and stems, a hat liable to fall into his eyes every time he crouched down to examine or retrieve a promising specimen. Roxas had left both articles of outerwear behind with their mother as well. Idly, Sora wondered if his brother was having the same regrets, was just as cold as he was, wherever Roxas happened to be now.

"There. That should hold." Tone subdued, still somewhat lost in errant thought, Sora stepped back. Riku turned to him, the rigid position in which he'd been holding both shoulders relaxing.

Taking a few steps away from the stone outcropping, Sora beckoned to Riku with one hand. "Come on."

He waited only long enough to see that Riku was following before he took off, assuming his new companion would catch up and match the pace he was setting as they went.

Riku didn't. Instead, Sora ended up forced to turn once he reached the edge of the trees, found himself studying the movements of a boy with legs long enough that he should've had no difficulty keeping up with him.

Riku's steps were slow, almost labored. It wasn't so much that he was limping as it was an odd way of walking, arms set rigid in front of him as if he was unsure what to do with them, bare heels never quite touching the ground with each step. Although Sora didn't comment on it, he felt a growing sense of despondency as he watched Riku approach. Not only did he have reservations about Riku's ability to help him hunt, at the back of his mind was the needling awareness that speed was one of his few allies in getting to Winter Home safely, and Riku's natural walking pace was onerous, at best.

Sora wasn't sure if Riku would decide to accompany him once he set out toward the mountains. He was sure that it would take longer than the two days he'd initially projected if he did come with, and that it wouldn't sit well with his conscience to leave him behind in favor of moving at a faster pace. It already felt like he'd abandoned Roxas. With all manner of predators in this region likely just as hungry as he was, Sora wasn't about to repeat the same mistake with Riku.

They made their way in silence toward the tributary his community had followed throughout their journey, Sora for once not in the mood to punctuate it with chatter. Although the forest was dense, it was also somewhat barren this late in the season, dead leaves crunching underfoot and the cobalt sky still partially visible amid tree branches extending far above their heads. The sounds of small forest animals scattering leaves and skittering away met Sora's ears as they got closer to water; for a moment, he wished he'd had the presence of mind to have had his sling at the ready so he could've at least made an attempt at procuring some food for them both. Drinking had been a near to exclusive focus since setting out, however; even cleaning Riku's injury had been more of a concern before hunting had crossed his mind. He hadn't been thinking clearly enough to consider the possibility of doing something out of order, at least not until it'd been too late to act at all. There was virtually no chance they'd encounter animals suitable for subsistence out in the open now after all the noise they'd just made.

Feeling more dejected by the second, Sora approached the creek's embankment and sighed as he lowered himself to his knees. There was no point in deriding himself about the missed opportunity now that there was nothing he could do about it. Behind him, Riku moved forward, copying his motions until he was crouched beside him, and their shoulders brushed for the briefest of moments; much to Sora's surprise, Riku didn't flinch away.

He was tempted to lean in, to enjoy what little human comfort he could obtain, however tenuous and short-lived. Riku's adverse reactions from earlier still fresh on his mind, Sora merely offered a smile, this time more controlled and close-lipped. An instant later, he scooted a little away, fingers unhooking his side pack, then delving into its interior to retrieve his belongings. First came the sling, then a few smooth stones he kept stored along with it. The knife emerged next, along with a flint stick, and finally his wooden token. Each item, in turn, was transferred to various pockets in his trousers, his token the sole possession stored in a deep compartment within his coat's interior. Every time he moved, Sora could feel eyes on him, following along with him. He opted not to acknowledge them as he reached for his pouch, pulling its cinched opening wider, before leaning forward and dipping it into the water.

The pack quickly filled, its animal bladder interior effectively waterproof, and Sora had to strain, arm muscles tensing as he drew it back toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Riku still watching him, head tilted to one side, expression of curiosity plain.

"Normally, there'd be bowls to drink from." Sora spoke as he worked, describing the usual process for retrieving water and returning with it to his community. "I didn't have one with me before the quake, so this will have to do."

Arms out, he offered the bladder to Riku, but the bewildered expression returned, same as when he'd first been instructed to put on Sora's outer coat the night before. Suppressing another sigh, still wondering how someone so ignorant of even the most basic survival skills had lived so long in such a harsh environment, Sora brought the water back closer to him, then extended his neck to avoid spilling on himself as he began to take his first couple sips.

Watching him for only a beat longer, Riku ultimately turned toward the creek, hands flat on either side of his upper body as he lowered his face toward the flowing water and took a long drink himself.

It was probably for the best, Sora conceded as he drank his fill and watched Riku use a different method to perform the same action. Without the use of his thumbs, holding the pack would have been difficult.

Once done, Riku remained near the water, dry leaves crunching as his chest brushed the ground, extending the hand that was still smeared with blood into the creek and then rubbing it against the muddy embankment until it was clean. From there, he lifted his arm, pressed the back of his hand against his face to wash it. His hand soon traveled upward, began to rub furiously against the part of his scalp where he'd sustained the original injury.

"Careful…"

The word was spoken quietly, Sora disinclined to adopt the lecturing tone he'd always despised having older community members direct at him. He wasn't stupid and neither was Riku, he'd already decided. Sometimes, it seemed, they both just needed a gentle reminder.

"If you pick the scab, it could start bleeding again."

Left unspoken but indisputable was the fact that the smell of blood might also attract animals far less unassuming than those they'd just scared away upon their arrival at the creek.

Although he couldn't be sure Riku'd completely understood, Sora noted that he had slowed his movements, seemed to be treating the injury with more care. Feeling slightly more confident that associating with this boy wasn't going to get them both killed, Sora returned to his water pack and took another long sip as he considered their next move. Eyes still trained on Riku, he watched him sit up a little straighter, shaking his head to rid his hair of the water it'd soaked up when he'd been cleaning himself. Silvery liquid rivulets sparkled in the early morning light, and Sora sent a quick request to Beiwe for a clear day with good visibility, then to the spirits with sovereignty over the smaller animals he hoped wouldn't be too difficult to track later on.

At most, he wanted to spend one more day here gathering enough greens, hunting enough small game, and resting within the safe shelter of stone so he could set a brisk pace toward Winter Home and increase his chances of avoiding encounters with predatory animals by traveling during daylight. With no way to preserve any kills he managed to acquire, it also might not be a bad idea to search out whatever berries or nuts still remained this late in the season and dry them over the fire that evening to take with him. Maybe Riku could manage that task, Sora mused, still holding out very little hope that he'd be able to effectively hunt without full use of his hands.

Thoughts still a disorganized whirlwind, Sora stood, cinching the half-full water pouch and looping it back into place at his side. Reaching into one of his pockets, he pulled out his sling, then two smooth rocks to nestle inside it, as needed. The movement seemed to catch Riku's attention, the boy freezing in place, gaze now fixed on the handheld weapon in Sora's possession.

"I'm going to see if I can catch some small game."

Sora extended his arm, palm up to display the strip of leather that his sling had been fashioned out of, both ends dangling on either side of his hand. Squall had made the weapon for him two summer seasons ago, had taught him how to choose the best types of stones, as well as the proper method in which to load them, take aim, and swing in a way that offered maximum accuracy and force. He'd become quite adept at wielding it with repeated practice and encouragement from adults and peers both. While it would do no more than stun most larger animals, it could kill smaller forest creatures, if aimed properly.

Noting how Riku's eyes followed the lazy pendulum movements of the sling, Sora found himself stealing a look at the boy's features in the better visibility of rising daylight.

Without blood smearing one side of his face, Riku looked less intimidating, albeit no less unusual in his expressions and mannerisms, and Sora realized he hadn't yet seen him smile. It was Riku's posture that offered hints as to what he was thinking or feeling, the widening or narrowing of eyes a subtle supplement.

They were wide right now, Riku's eyes, body rigid as he stared at Sora's sling with intensity.

"Do you know how to hunt?"

Eyes not wavering from the weapon, Riku slowly inclined his head, then jerked his chin back up into its former position, an awkward but incontrovertible nodding gesture, as far as Sora was concerned. Hope made a quick reappearance on the heels of his words because, just as undeniable, two hunters would be more effective than one.

"With a sling?" Sora shook the leathery weapon adjunct to his question. It only served to elicit a subtle shudder, the fur lining on Sora's outer coat quivering across Riku's shoulders.

That was probably a no, Sora decided.

"A knife, then? Or a spear?"

Neither word seemed to have any effect on Riku, his expression remaining unchanged after both short inquiries. In the span of a few brief moments, Sora's mood dipped again. It was impossible for him to tell if this was a simple language barrier or something else entirely, not when Riku wouldn't _say anything_ that could provide him with some context as to what he was dealing with. He seemed to understand at least some of what was being said, Sora was willing to concede; it hardly mattered if they couldn't communicate with one another well enough to convey the information necessary to work as a team.

Not wanting to broadcast his growing frustration to someone who wasn't really deserving of it, just as Roxas hadn't been a day ago himself, Sora turned away from Riku, free hand instinctively moving toward the pocket that held his wooden token.

Feeling increasingly desperate, Sora scanned their surroundings, eyes on the lookout for a _sieidi_. Only Advisor had the authority to consecrate a site in such a manner; if he could just find something that might qualify though, it might be adequate evidence that the spirits were still present and aware of his plight, maybe still even cared enough to entertain a request for a small intercession.

He saw nothing. There were no unusually shaped trees, no stones of unique coloring. Nothing to indicate he hadn't been abandoned entirely.

Two fingers slipped into his coat pocket. Tracing the ridges of his token, the pad of his index finger rubbed against the carefully carved feathers of his personalguardian, the animal Advisor had declared most emblematic of his spirit's nature two summers ago at a ceremony for those of his birth season to acknowledge the transition from tyke to youngling.

 _Hear me. Help me, please._

Although the request was silent, it was no less heartfelt, Sora's fingers caressing the wooden carving as though it were alive, breath held as he waited, honing all of his senses to pick up on even the smallest of spirit-sent signs.

When nothing about his surroundings seemed different, when not so much as a light breeze indicated his prayer had been heard, Sora exhaled, shoulders subtly rounding. It'd been silly to think the spirits would bother with someone like him, a boy who was more wont to daydream than do his assigned communal tasks, an insignificant juvenile not even yet a full adult community member.

"Maybe you could gather greens while I try to find small game," Sora finally said, words murmured as he tried to redirect his focus away from the lingering disappointment about the resounding lack of response, spirit-sent or otherwise.

Given Riku's decided dearth of personal weaponry or any proven skill at hunting, yes, Sora decided as he turned back toward the creek, "that would probably work the bes…"

The word faded before he could complete his thought as Sora looked at the spot where Riku had last been seated, expression quickly shifting from disappointed to perplexed.

No one was there.

Eyes performing a quick scan of the area, Sora quickly confirmed that Riku was nowhere in sight. With brittle dry forest debris all around them though, Sora found it difficult to believe Riku could have risen and left without him having heard anything. It would have been next to impossible.

He hadn't been that distracted ...had he? Wringing his hands as he took another quick look around the area encompassing the nearby embankment, then even down into the creek itself, Sora started to feel encroaching doubt. Just how long _had_ he been trying to invoke his personal totem? Could hunger not only warp time but also drown out the sounds of another human being trampling across underbrush not more than a few body lengths away from him?

There was no sign of a departing trail though, no additional set of footsteps or newly disturbed underbrush nearby. If not for the depression of leaves left by Riku's weight near the creek's embankment, Sora might have believed the boy hadn't been there to begin with, that he'd been imagining all of this, a combined result of enduring hunger, grief, and growing desperation.

Or, maybe, he was just becoming more distracted the longer he remained separated from his loved ones and really hadn't heard Riku rise and move elsewhere.

At this juncture, Sora didn't know which prospect was more alarming. And neither changed the reality that, for the second time in as many days, he found himself alone and vulnerable again.


	4. Chapter 4

Albeit bright, the mid-day sun offered no recourse from the late-season air's biting chill, and it'd quickly become a race against both time and natural elements for Sora to locate the requisite supplies and fashion them into usable hunting tools. The tips of his fingers were soon numb regardless, despite his single-minded focus and the swift pace he'd set for himself.

He'd chosen to fish over the more labor-intensive activity of small game tracking for a number of reasons, one being the creek's proximity. He would also be able to drink his fill while remaining productive, an effective way of tricking his belly into a feeling of fullness, however temporary and long-term insubstantial. Moreover, the stream of water was a relatively closed environment — by simply following the current, Sora could scout for the appropriate natural formation, ideally a small inlet, then manually reroute it from the main flow of water. Once corralled into the smaller space, catching fish would be simpler; with the proper tools, there was a high chance of obtaining enough food to last through the night, perhaps even into the next morning, spirits willing.

Apart from strategizing, Sora had another motive for wanting to fish, one closely associated with the mystery of where Riku had disappeared off to, as well as the worry it was inducing. Fishing involved rudimentary tool-making, of busying himself by fashioning an instrument long enough to make thrusting motions with. While he had a knife already in his possession, it wouldn't be long enough on its own to be able to both observe his intended targets and make controlled jabs to ultimately procure them. The search for proper materials, coupled with the time it took to construct the necessary weapon and seek an ideal location to create his trap, would be more than enough to keep focused on something other than wondering about Riku's current whereabouts.

At least, that's what Sora sincerely hoped.

While there was no shortage of tree branches nearby, finding one that was strong enough not to splinter against the rocky creek bottom presented more of a challenge. Ultimately, the search led him into a deeper part of the forest, where creek water wound its way around various geographic obstacles, sometimes even pooling into a handful of natural ground hollows.

The trees closest to water were most pliable, and Sora eventually settled on one that involved a short climb to reach a branch of an acceptable length. He went to work felling it with a few practiced swipes of his knife. Then, his focus turned to clearing a suitable patch of ground on which to sit, legs crossed and head bowed as he stripped off the branch's exterior bark at one end, making it easier to grip.

The next step involved securing his knife to the opposite side with a strip of leather he unthreaded from his interior coat's mid-section. He tested how securely it was tied through a series of sharp, experimental thrusts down into the hard-packed earth. There was no point in sacrificing the only knife in his possession via poor quality construction, otherwise avoidable if he'd just paid better attention to what he was piecing together in the first place. Now was not an appropriate time for day dreams of any sort, he told himself, a recurring theme in his life of late.

Once done, Sora considered his surroundings, ultimately locating an inlet that seemed suitably sized and of adequate depth. He was quick to launch into the assembly of a barrier strong enough to keep fish from passing through it, as well as able to redirect a portion of the water's downward current. This involved surrendering a coat pocket to the tip of his knife, ultimately dismantling it into a four-cornered swatch of waterproof leather that was long enough to create a makeshift fish impasse.

While he worked, Sora divided his attention between constructing his tools and the sounds that encompassed the area around him. By virtue of well-practiced observation, he was adept at filtering out noises deemed trivial. He ignored the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds, along with sounds associated with smaller animals traversing the spindly branches of forest trees high above him. He knew it was the absence of these sounds that would pose the most problems; where there was none of this subtle, continuous din, there was generally a good chance of the presence of a threat far more immediate to him.

He'd settled on a site near the steep slope of an embankment, the creek having wound itself flush where half-submerged rocks met the muddy boundary of the forest's natural incline. As the water flowed downward, its aqueous path narrowed around several large stones. While most of the creek continued to snake further away from him, a small stream had been redirected into a shallow hollow closer to the side of the forest bank where he was now standing. Rippling with surface movement, the water offered a glimpse of late afternoon sun through the cover of trees, prismatic and sparkling. This was the spot where Sora focused his attention. From there, it was a simple matter of shifting mid-sized rocks and wedging the swatch of leather between the two largest on either bank. The water was shallow, but icy, and not for the first time Sora found himself grateful for foot coverings that were relatively water-resistant.

The leather barrier soon darkened as it soaked through with water. Much to Sora's relief, it held fast against the creek current. He stood nearby taking a moment to savor his handiwork, then headed off in search of the next item he knew he needed. The fish would arrive whether he was present or not. Regardless, he'd done all that he could here for the time being.

He left in search of wood and other debris to build up the fire in anticipation of his return to the rock outcropping later in the day, then gathered as much as he could comfortably carry, before heading back through dense foliage toward his trap. Not yet visible, it was the sound of gurgling water that indicated he was getting closer. It took him a moment longer to realize that, apart from his own muffled footfalls, water was the only forest sound he was currently hearing. Between two unnoticed temporal instances, the forest had grown quiet. As the implications took hold, Sora froze, noting a flash of lightning-quick movement a beat before he caught the indistinct glimpse of a tawny-yellow silhouette.

Cautiously, Sora craned his neck in the direction he'd last seen movement, a hopeful part of his mind offering up the possibility that it might be Roxas while his more logical side warned that this was improbable. The form had been taller, a willowy figure, yellow hair flowing and much longer than his brother's. Searching every crevice of his visual landscape, Sora held his breath, ears straining for even the most subtle of unusual sounds. He'd heard nothing earlier, save for the absence of expected forest noises, but maybe, just possibly, he'd catch something that might help him identify the disconcerting image he'd just seen now that he was specifically looking for it.

Silence though. All around him simply the consistent sound of flowing creek water.

In the name of caution, Sora abandoned the kindling he'd collected, dropping it at his feet as he unlatched his sling. Crouching low, he sought out a few smooth stones. Loading one into the rounded pouch at the end of his weapon, he slipped the others into his most accessible coat pocket. Taking care to retrace his earlier steps, he angled his way back toward the site where he'd set his fish trap.

He traveled on nearly silent feet, one placed cautiously in front of the other, eyes actively scanning the area, ears still listening for anything out of the ordinary. As he approached the site where he'd set his trap, the natural sounds of the forest returned without appreciable transition, as though they'd never been absent in the first place. This put him marginally at ease, allowed him to breathe more freely and wonder if the imagined threat was simply a visual trick induced by the partial cover of sunlight. If a true predator had been near, there would have been more outward and still lingering signs of its presence.

There was clear enough visibility in his current location to note that his belongings remained where he'd left them — what's more, the surface of his chosen inlet was gently swirling with the silvery, telltale shadows of fish within its shallow depths.

Despite his fatigue, Sora smiled.

Returning to the supplies he'd left behind, Sora exchanged his sling for the spear. He held his new weapon in a loose grip in front of him, resting the length of it on both upturned hands to familiarize himself with its weight. Once comfortable with the weapon's dimensions, Sora made his way closer to the inlet, slowing as his underwater obstruction came into view. Crouching on the far side of the water at a spot still beyond the leather barrier, he submerged the tip of his spear, pulled it out, then repeated the action from a different angle.

Each time the spear dipped below the water's surface, he took care to note where it appeared in comparison to the direction he'd initially inserted it. While the spirit Aske was more well-known her unruly nighttime duplicity, even Beiwe had moments of illusory trustworthiness. The angle at which objects warped when placed in bodies of water was one such example with which Sora was amply familiar. It followed, then, that even acquiring fish from a controlled environment necessitated forethought and some level of skill on his part.

That said, the inlet was small, the leather barrier effective at directing much of the water's stream into it. For all intents and purposes, Sora's practice stabs were simply a means to ensure he wouldn't waste already limited time on repeated near-misses. Without the benefit of help from his community, or Riku in the event that he reappeared, virtually every step of the meal-making process seemed destined to fall on him, no matter how fatigued he happened to be, both emotions-wise and physically.

Moving to stand over the inlet, Sora watched the wisps of murky movement below him, raising his spear up to his shoulder, then chose his first target. Each small fish was congregated near the rocky ground bed, about an arms-length deep, tail fins swaying from one side of their serpentine bodies to the other. Occasionally, one drifted toward the inlet's opening, only to reach an unseen threshold where no level of momentum had any further effect on its forward trajectory. Knowing he'd done his job well, Sora's expression brightened further.

His first attempt produced positive results. There was a sense of satisfaction at feeling the pressure of his spear as it connected with pliable bones and flesh an instant before its tip met the rocky inlet floor below it. Trailing the tip of his weapon along the inlet's edges, he pulled up along its muddy wall to ensure his catch wasn't inadvertently dislodged in the wake of its still frantic movements. It emerged in a splash of silvery rivulets, body jerking, as Sora hastened to remove it from his spear tip and stun it with a controlled jab to the head.

He wasn't as successful on attempts two and three, having missed entirely on his second go, merely grazing his target's tale on the third as it darted off to the far corner of the enclosure. Fish two was caught soon after, however, then deposited near the first. A couple more carefully timed thrusts and the remaining two fish soon joined the pair he'd already caught.

By the time he was through, Sora was winded, chest rising and falling, arms aching with their recent exertion. As he lowered himself back to the ground and began the process of disassembling the spear, he couldn't help but eye the result of his efforts and note the unforgiving ache at the pit of his stomach that corresponded with combined proximity to food and his current inability to actually eat it. Once separated, he slipped the knife back into his pocket, repurposing the sinewy string by tying it around all four wriggling fish, then set to work dismantling his barrier. It was cold and waterlogged, would ultimately require hours in front of the fire before returning to anything resembling its former state of fur-lined softness. Under the present circumstances, and with limited supplies at his disposal, he didn't have the luxury to discard potential resources, however.

Wringing it between both cold-numbed hands, thoughts shifting to the return journey to his rock outcropping and the anticipation of soon being able to eat freshly caught fish, Sora didn't initially notice that the forest had grown quiet again, or sense the intensity of malachite eyes watching nearby. He may not have sensed the approaching danger at all, if not for the quietest, subtlest hint of a low-toned rumble.

Hands still fisted around the damp leather swatch, Sora tensed, eyes widening as he scanned his surroundings. The throaty sound returned, along with a quiet snuffle, both noises just distinct enough to direct his gaze to the embankment above him.

For a moment, he saw nothing, the spotted pattern of the creature's coat naturally blending with the sienna and yellow that encompassed the late-season forest foliage around him. It was the blinking of eyes that ultimately caught his attention, deep-set and white-lined on either side of a rounded muzzle. From there, Sora assessed the creature's crouched position, simultaneously processing two pieces of crucial information — this was a wildcat, and its stance implied it was on the offensive.

Much like other animals with which his community co-existed, Sora knew that, of themselves, large cats were nothing to be fearful of. They, like most other animals, were simply a part of the region's wildlife, often observed during his community's travels from one seasonal home to another. The enduring lack of food sometimes made them bolder, but they were still no match for a weapon-clad collective of humans. There was safety in numbers, and few animals were willing to risk approaching armed community members, regardless of whether their traditional role was that of prey or predator.

The true and pressing issue, however, was that Sora didn't have the benefit of his group, couldn't call out for help from nearby reinforcements.

The cat didn't move but was eyeing him keenly, its jowls lifted into the suggestion of a fanged grimace, hackles rising seemingly higher by the second. Keeping an eye on the wildcat above him, Sora performed a quick mental inventory of the weapons he had at his disposal, which ultimately came down to his knife and the sling. Too short range a weapon, he quickly ruled out the knife; unless the cat made a lung toward him, his blade, though sharp, was essentially useless.

The sling, though. The sling might work. Unfortunately for Sora, it remained on the ground a body's length away, where he'd temporarily discarded it in anticipation of using the spear to fish with.

Still mindful of the cat above him, he took a few steps sideways, careful not to rush or make any sudden movements, all the while trying to anticipate warning signs that the animal was preparing to lunge. Above him, it watched with mirrored intensity, and Sora could only hope that its instinctive reticence to attack an unfamiliar opponent would continue to work in his favor.

It wasn't until he'd made it close enough to be able to nudge his sling with a foot that the cat shifted, haunches lowering, what was visible of its over-large paws flexing as claws appeared and then retracted. Sora, too, lowered himself to a crouch but took care to keep the top half of his body upright, free hand ready and able to access his knife.

A warning growl sounded in tandem with a flash of silver on the edge of his peripherals.

A surge of hope rose within him, only to be snuffed by a secondary glance at the bundle of fish to his left. Mostly still, they still occasionally jerked themselves, scales reflecting the late afternoon light. This was what had caught his attention, rather than a timely reappearance on Riku's part.

So too, their sporadic movement brought with it was a distinctive odor, piscine but fresh. And if he was able smell this, Sora realized, so too could the wildcat.

One hand brushed against the familiar edge of his sling, middle finger slipping into a loop at the end of its tethered cord, practically begging him to pull the length of it closer so he could take aim and shoot the rock already nestled in its leather compartment. He'd have only one real chance to scare the creature off. Even at this proximity though, he wasn't confident enough about the accuracy of his aim to risk lobbing it at the cat's head in an attempt to kill or stun it, only to end up completely missing his intended target.

For a pregnant moment, Sora hesitated. He mentally hedged and debated with himself, not wholly confident in his ability to successfully fend off teeth and claws if his aim came up short. Most of all, he tried not to imagine the consequences of an impending miscalculation.

Newfound doubt was quick to overcome more practical thought processes, and Sora allowed himself one last desperate scan of the area in hopes of locating something useful. As though sensing his gaze, the fished jerked again in a demonstrative, silver-tailed flail. This time, something clicked, and Sora let the pieces of his scattered thoughts fall into place and form a solution that had been overlooked in the throes of his initial fight-or-flight panic.

The thrashing movements and distinct scent of live fish — this must have been what'd attracted the animal in the first place, the same hunger he was still experiencing perhaps more than sufficient to encourage a wildcat into boldness uncharacteristic of its species. In the instant after that mental revelation, Sora once again abandoned his attempt to procure the sling, then wasted no time sprinting back over and scooping up the bundle of fish.

Above him, muscles flexed, but the cat remained where it crouched, eyes following the trajectory of his arm as Sora pulled the four fish toward him. The rumble intensified, an inharmonic concert of staccato chittering, and jowls trickling slaver in conjunction with more deep-throated growling. The shifting of weight from one front paw to the other, along with the flattening of ears against a rounded skull, were all telltale signs that the cat was about to pounce. With no time to untie his knot and separate the fish from one another, Sora wound up and threw the entire catch in a high arch up onto the embankment as near to the animal as he could manage.

It landed not far from the cat. What followed were sounds of shuffling, of teeth gnashing, feet pawing as soon as the fish were located. Not waiting to see if the cat was going to circle back to him, Sora snatched up his sling and shoved it in his pocket as he took off running in the direction opposite the wildcat.

Taking a direct route back toward the stone shelter, Sora slowed only when his lungs were aching, chest heaving as he whirled around and tried to quiet his rapid breathing and listen for sounds that implied the cat was in hot pursuit.

Unless it had stopped to watch him, he sensed nothing. Not willing to let his guard down again, Sora kept one hand on his knife, the other hovering over the pocket his sling was in before reaching for it. Once retrieved, he allowed it to swing at his side, an undulation of sinewy leather weighed down on one end by the stone within its pocketed fold. Around him, the sounds of the forest filtered in to him. Although it no longer felt like a guarantee of safety, it remained an enduring assurance that the forest's smaller animals weren't on the alert from an approaching predator.

He stayed in place only long enough to catch his breath, to take another small sip from the half-full bladder still secured to his side, before heading back the way he'd set out from that morning. Eventually, he loosened his grip on the knife, began to stoop and collect anything that even so much as marginally resembled kindling spotted along the path in front of him. It wouldn't make up for the time he'd spent gathering the bundle of strategically chosen branches earlier, but it'd at least be sufficient to keep the fire stoked long enough for him to rest and plan his next steps. He could debate returning for what he'd left behind after he was better rested and thinking more clearly.

It just wouldn't be on the full stomach he'd been anticipating.

It was a discouraging thought, but also one that brought with it a subtle prickle of agitation that grew the closer he got to the rocks. While no stranger to hunger over the past few seasons, Sora had never truly been faced with the prospect outright starving. Cloud had always been a competent leader; when food sources had become sparse, he'd been careful to ration existing food and reallocate responsibilities with an aim toward harvesting additional salt so as to preserve the results of the season's final hunt to take with them on their journey to Winter Home. The strip of jerky Sora'd had in his possession when he and Roxas had set out yesterday was a result of these efforts, the imposed rationing a prime reason he'd been hungry, even irritable, at the time of fraternal separation, if not strictly famished as of yet.

Now, he ran the very real risk of succumbing to a hunger that, once merely a benign irritant, was starting not only to fog his senses but put a damper on the typically unwavering good nature of his inherent demeanor.

As much as Sora tended to hold an optimistic outlook, he was no longer confident that Riku had understood him well enough to follow his earlier instructions and search for edibles. There'd been no sign of the boy since he'd disappeared hours ago. As Sora reached the edge of the forest and stepped out onto the exposed land of the plain, he saw no sign of Riku now either.

There was also no smoke to indicate the fire had been rekindled, not so much as the smallest sense of another nearby human presence.

Still keeping a wary eye on his surroundings, feet lifting only high enough to compel his body a single, laborious step forward at a time, Sora made his way back toward his shelter. Shifting the sticks he'd collected from his hand to the crook of one elbow, he slowly reached up, placing his hand across his chest and over his heart as he continued to trudge onward. There it remained, pressed just firmly enough to feel his token's faint outline. For now, it was enough to know it was still there; Sora felt no current compulsion to take it out and study it.

Born of unconscious habit, there was nothing even latently spiritual about the action at present. Feeling his token didn't invoke thoughts about his encounter with the wildcat, or the objective success of his subsequent escape. It helped form zero auxiliary theories as to where Riku had disappeared, or even about the actions he could take so his situation might marginally improve in the coming hours. Weighed down by an all-encompassing combination of hunger and exhaustion, Sora could only maintain focus on the most essential of actions.

First, he would return to his chosen shelter. Once there, he'd likely rest, perhaps summon enough energy to search nearby for Riku. As it currently stood though, he couldn't fathom doing anything beyond what was pressingly necessary to rebuild the fire. When reduced to such a narrow scope, even more immediate concerns like food and sore muscles dissolved in the face of simple motions, such as one foot forward, then the next overtaking it, and the increasingly indifferent observation that each step was bringing the shelter ever closer.

Even so, the uninspired actions eventually ceded to one foot colliding with abrupt force into a blunt shard of rock where the outcropping rose from the ground. Blinking, Sora paused long enough to glance down, first at his foot, then out to the stone in front of him, suddenly uncertain how he'd managed to arrive at his intended destination without conscious intention. His foot throbbed, a healthy pulse that traveled up the back of an aching calf, which protested in turn every time full weight was put on it, no matter how briefly. In contrast with the lower half of his body, his head felt light, vision sparkling on both sides no matter how slowly he craned his neck to look at his environment, the plain shimmering and swimming before him like a light breeze rippling across the surface of calm water. These were opposing sensations that Sora might have taken time to consider further if circumstances had been different. As it stood, he merely accepted the dichotomy and tried to remember which limb went where as he began to scale the short distance from the ground to the rock ledge he'd discovered the night before.

As he climbed, thoughts briefly turned to his next move. Although common sense urged him to search for Riku, that safety in numbers was a rule which still held despite the challenge in communicating with one another, his body was begging for physical reprieve, practically entreated him to lie down and sleep. Rest in his current state risked grave consequences, his subconscious warned, but it was a quiet reprimand, almost muffled into total irrelevance by the limitations of Sora's physical countenance.

Sleep, then, he decided with resignation. If that was the only way to overcome his immense hunger at this stage of the day, so be it. Using his last reserve of strength, Sora pulled himself up onto the ledge, the second-rate kindling he'd collected on the return journey tumbling to the ground in front of him, not so much as warranting a glance on his part.

Bleary eyes took in the makeshift fire pit. As he'd already guessed, it wasn't even smoldering, the embers black and lifeless.

If that had been the whole of it, Sora would have been content to retreat deeper into the rock's natural fissure, away from Beiwe's heatless late-season sun and the unforgiving, skin-prickling wind that came with it. If that had been all, Sora would surely have succumbed to sleep, indifferent to the knowledge that it may have been his last conscious action in this life.

Instead, Sora stared, not at the fire but off to one side of it. Sora blinked, shook his head, then rubbed his eyes just for the sake of meticulousness. Even after these physical contingencies, there was still a lingering worry that he was out of his mind and simply seeing the necessities his body most longed for.

Because, as Sora stood at the stone shelter's opening, in front of a fire that had long succumbed to wind and cold, he saw salvation staring him back in the form of three sets of eyes, unseeing and opaline. They were set far apart in feathered heads, necks bowed at identical, fatal angles, bodies a swell of modest size, yet still an allusion of nourishment. Laid one beside the other in a line by the fire, they seemed more akin to an offering than sources of food for the likes of an insignificant human.

He looked away, momentarily dazed, expecting to see Riku watching from somewhere nearby.

The space was still empty and silent, void of perceivable life. Cause for concern over the other boy's whereabouts should have been paramount, a quiet mental voice tried to caution him. Nevertheless, as Sora shuffled toward the triad of birds, he allowed mental entry to the smallest spark of hope that maybe, just possibly, his situation wasn't as dire as he'd initially wholeheartedly believed.

o - o

He had nearly finished de-feathering the first bird by the time Riku made an appearance. By then, Sora had been hard at work on meal preparation for close to an hour. Although any food was good food at this point, not all nourishment was created equal when it came time to make suitable for eating. The birds were larger, would more effectively sate gnawing hunger than fish, certainly. Filleting a fish took less time than plucking countless feathers off each bird's body, however — what's more, he didn't have the proper tools at his disposal to make the process easier.

He'd done his best to pluck carefully, grateful their bodies weren't stiff or yet fully frozen in the aftermath of their deaths and the current state of the day's chill temperature. After a prolonged period of picking at feathers, fingers stinging and becoming number by the second, there were times when Sora miscalculated and inadvertently rent apart clammy flesh, or instances where the bird's skin had begun fusing to the roots of individual feathers as the vestiges of its natural body heat vanished.

Long past its apex, the sun was low in the sky, now almost eye level. It was flooding the plains in hues of orange and yellow by the time he looked up and saw movement at the edge of the forest. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for an animal, hesitating behind the last few feet of tree cover. Although hunched, a combination of height and idiosyncratic posture revealed the newcomer's identity, even without the oddity of grey-white hair to supplement.

Fingers stilling, Sora watched as Riku approached, the finer details of his features coming more fully into focus the closer he got. It soon became clear that he was carrying a load of his own, albeit in a manner that was visibly awkward. Rather than using his hands, Riku was employing both forearms to balance what Sora was quick to recognize as the kindling he'd abandoned in the forest clearing in his haste to escape the wildcat.

His initial expression of surprise soon ceded to one of delight. It curved Sora's lips, smile broad enough to make his cheeks ache. The loss of his fire-making supplies was a blow he'd been trying to mentally set aside since his return. As much of a saving grace as this cache of birds was to him, there still remained uncertainty about how he would adequately cook them without the benefit of his carefully selected kindling. A trip back to the forest would take hours. During that time, he would either need to take the birds with him or make the decision to leave them at the shelter. Either posed risks, one of thievery and the other of unseen attack, and Sora had no interest in repeating his encounter with the wildcat, or any other related wildlife that posed a threat to the continuance of his already tenuous existence, for that matter.

By the time Riku appeared at the crevice entrance, unceremoniously dropping what he held and lowering himself into a familiar, stooped position a safe distance away, Sora had suppressed his smile, mindful of the negative reaction it had provoked on earlier occasions. Secretly, he was rejoicing, sending silent thanks to one spirit in particular, savoring the swell of gratitude that had formed in the wake of Riku's return. Close on the heels of that emotion came the knowledge that he wasn't alone in this, even if he'd begun to assume otherwise.

Although he wasn't being looked at directly, a subtle feeling persisted that Riku was studying him out of his peripheral vision. Nevertheless, the giddy sense of happiness lingered, and Sora reached into his coat's chest pocket. Riku followed the hand movement as it traveled from Sora's coat to the stone beside his crossed legs. He carefully placed the little figurine upright between them before both hands returned to his lap and the bird he'd been prepping.

"This is wonderful." At the sound of Sora's voice, Riku glanced up, brows furrowing as if trying to interpret the words. For his part, Sora kept the movement of his hands slow and deliberate as he maintained eye contact. "You must be a very skilled hunter to have caught these without a weapon."

Although Riku didn't smile, his posture transformed in the face of Sora's praise. Sloped shoulders readjusted, then lowered, rounded back lengthened, and the severe incline of his chin upended. It was a carriage that implied pride, even if his expression remained static, mouth a thin line below eyes that seemed to speak untold volumes in a language that Sora couldn't yet comprehend.

For Sora, it was more than satisfactory. He removed the final feathers, glancing between his spiritual token and the work he'd just completed on the plucked bird, noting the similarities between his personal token and the food Riku had procured for them both. He wanted desperately to believe it wasn't a simple coincidence, or dumb luck on Riku's part. Without being able to explain how he'd acquired the birds in a way that Sora could understand, all he could do was hazard unsubstantiated guesses. In that vein, it was always possible Riku had come upon the birds in the same state that they'd been left at their shelter, rather than having proactively hunted and killed them.

Unlikely though, Sora decided. All three birds had identical injuries; if they'd met their collective fates in the jaws of an animal, there'd have been more evidence. Blood and teeth marks. And even if Riku had simply gotten lucky and come upon them by chance, it was still a marker that something powerful was watching over him, perhaps even them both. Despite a lack of otherworldly signs that Sora had personally been able to spot throughout the day, the indisputable truth that Riku had returned not only with food but also with the kindling he'd had to abandon could only mean something positive.

At least, he hoped with all of his being that this was the right way to interpret things.

He employed the same careful slowness with which he'd just spoken to Riku and rose to his feet, making no sudden movements, and stifling the ebullient flurry of limbs to which he was so oft predisposed. Even so, Sora felt wary eyes following him. He stole a quick glance in Riku's direction and noted that the boy's body had returned to its default state of visible tension.

Rather than approaching, Sora sidestepped Riku and made his way to the supplies that had been deposited nearby.

"Thanks for bringing these." His words were murmured, soothing and low, as he began to gather a mix of larger branches and smaller, quicker-burning forest underbrush. "Returning to look for them would've set me back hours."

As he dug further into the bundle of sticks and other assorted kindling, Sora's hand met something stiff but more pliant than wood, an object that had a familiar texture to it, even if still damp with creek water residuum.

"Oh." The word was a breathless exhalation. "You really did find everything."

Drawing the swatch of leather to him, Sora momentarily forgot himself and offered a bright smile.

"Thank you. The meal will be so much easier to make now."

Riku averted his gaze, eyes flickering briefly up, then dropping back to the stone below him before he offered a quick jerk of his chin. Sora watched without pretense, simply pleased to realize he was picking up on Riku's method of communicating, however odd it seemed to someone who'd grown up in a community that was far more reliant on conveying information verbally.

He turned his focus to nurturing the fire back to life, next worked on carving up the first bird into manageable pieces and harvesting any edible organs before arranging them on a flat stone to cook near the fire. Untying his drinking pouch, Sora dribbled a controlled stream of water onto the square of leather Riku had recovered for him. Once wet enough, he wrapped the second bird in it and secured the entire bundle to a larger branch that he could balance above the fire. While he worked, he hummed a simple _joik_ from his childhood, shoulders moving with the subtle intimation of the full-bodied movements his people performed during seasonal rituals to supplement the song's vocal harmonics.

Occasionally, he stole a glance over his shoulder, noting that Riku was still keenly watching him. It didn't particularly bother Sora that he'd been tasked with preparing their meal on his own. Riku was the sole reason he had food to prepare in the first place. The effort required to make it safely edible seemed a fair trade-off.

Allowing the wet leather enough time to steam the contents ensconced within it, Sora removed the second bird and replaced it with the third as he got to work removing more feathers. The steaming process had warmed the bird's stiff body. Its skin with more notice give to it, the feathers pulled away easily and Sora finished it in a quarter of the time it took him to pluck the first. He retrieved the third bird next, removing it from the scrap of leather so he could cool down the latter, then wrap it around one hand and retrieve the cooked pieces of carved bird legs and breast. Arranging them by his side, Sora looked up, then beckoned to Riku with his free hand.

"Hunters eat first."

By now, it seemed clear that simpler sentences were easier for Riku, that commands in particular were understood best. He chose the words of this latest statement with these considerations in mind.

Even so, Riku hesitated, lashes a flutter of apparent bemusement, gaze skirting to both sides of him as though seeking out the person Sora had just addressed.

"I meant you," Sora said with a small smile. "Come and eat."

Although clearly hesitant, Riku rose, shuffled closer, and did as he'd been told.

As Riku ate in the same laborious way that he seemed to approach every task involving the fine motor skills of his hands, Sora turned to the second plucked bird. Stomach rumbling, he made quick work in carving it, then repeated the cooking process as he worked on removing the feathers on the third and final bird.

"We'll take this one with us tomorrow. It should be enough for morning and mid-day meals if we ration carefully."

Riku didn't respond beyond the sounds of teeth crunching indiscriminately against the flesh and bones of the bird that Sora had prepared for him.

Finished plucking, Sora hastily carved the third bird, then rose and sprinted off to a far corner of the shelter's entry. He located a site close enough to the fire to keep even the most daring predators at bay but far enough from it to ensure the meat would freeze if left out overnight. Making a mental note to check up on it before retiring for the evening, he returned to the fire, removed the cooked pieces of bird meat, and started eating.

It tasted plain, was tough to chew and entirely unseasoned, but Sora hardly noticed any of these minor details as he quickly made up for lost time and caught up with Riku in devouring his food. By the time he was three-quarters finished, his stomach wasn't yet full, but it was also no longer aching, and he slowed his pace. Sora knew better than to make himself sick by eating too quickly for an abdomen that wasn't used to being so fully satisfied in the span of a single sitting.

Riku seemed to be heeding the same unspoken rule. Jaw still working its way over what appeared to be a splinter of leg bone, he was now eating more slowly as well, eyes lowered, expression one of vague content. The bowed angle of his head gave Sora pause, if only because it revealed a hint of swollen red beneath the lighter shades of his hair. Swallowing the piece of meat he'd been chewing, Sora shifted, his eyes narrowing in an attempt to get a better view of Riku's injury. Hidden beneath a disheveled fringe of hair, it was just as difficult to get a sense of the gash's severity as it'd been the night before.

"I was wondering…" Sora paused as he considered his words. Nearby, a fresh silence, indication that Riku too had stopped chewing, perhaps to listen. "I want to take a look at your injury." Sora rephrased, this time into something closer to a statement than the open-ended inquiry he'd initially begun to pose.

Pushing himself to his feet, Sora noted that Riku had tensed again. For a moment, the two studied one another, Riku still guarded, Sora more openly relaxed and amicable.

"Stay still."

It went against his nature to adopt such a commanding tone, particularly with respect to peers in his own community. Such authority would be questioned, if not outright physically challenged. The adults more or less encouraged such adolescent power struggles, viewing them as a means of identifying the next crop of potential community leadership. Scuffles had been a common facet of his childhood, even if Sora had no genuine interest in actively leading anyone. Nevertheless, he'd grown adept at identifying when verbal disagreements risked escalating into something more physical, and was prepared to defend himself at any time, against anyone.

But Riku. Riku merely dropped his gaze, the muscles in his neck taut, but elbows locking as he leaned against them and inclined his head to give Sora a better angle at which to view him.

It was a curious response, but Sora didn't stop to consider it further. Making his way toward Riku, Sora came to a stop in front of him. He bent, hands pressed against his thighs for balance as he surveyed what he could see of the injury, which wasn't much. Although no longer as heavily clotted, Riku's hair was matted against his head, the skin of his scalp next to impossible to see with any great measure of detailed accuracy.

"I'm going to touch you, just to move your hair."

Sora's voice remained low, words murmured in an attempt to offer reassurance that he meant Riku no harm, but also leaving no room for the declaration to be countered in any form. When he was greeted with no discernible response, Sora reached out with one hand, fingers brushing against the closest strands of hair in front of him.

Carefully, Sora slid his fingers beneath Riku's hair, then parted it to reveal as much of the relevant section of his scalp as possible.

"It doesn't look too bad." Relief coursed through him. "The spirits must favor you."

Again, no response, just the same rigid posture that'd been adopted earlier.

Done with his inspection, Sora knew he should move. Yet he found himself strangely rooted, fingers still entwined in Riku's hair, for the first time really feeling it against his skin and having the opportunity to study it. It was coarser than he'd expected. Thicker, too, albeit almost silky at the points closest to where the tips of his fingers met skin, not all that dissimilar to the way the fur undercoat felt on his outermost coat.

And the color of it... In the dim light of dusk and soft glow of firelight, the silvery sheen was a visual secondary to a unique combination of earth tones and overcast sky.

A light tremor was working its way up his arm. It took Sora a moment to recognize its origins. Instinctively, Sora hummed a quiet song his mother once sang that always inspired a sense of comfort and safety. At the same time, his fingers moved, palm pressing against the crown of Riku's head, gently unknotting loose tangles at the base of his scalp, softly kneading the skin beneath it.

He'd hoped the soothing action, along with the softly hummed tune, would provide Riku some sense of peace. What Sora hadn't anticipated was the way Riku subsequently leaned into him, tentative but definite, giving him just enough time to check his balance before he felt even more weight against his hand.

Sora's humming quieted in the wake of his surprise, fingers momentarily hesitating before they resumed the tender gesture. It elicited a sigh, Riku's shoulders relaxing beneath the collar of Sora's coat. It was a simple moment of shared comfort in the midst of circumstances that had otherwise only felt threatening, unyielding and relentless as they inspired dismay after repeated dismay.

As he smoothed down strands of silvery hair that still stuck out at the occasional odd angle, Sora noted how gratifying it was to have contact with another human again, however immense their differences. It had only been one day since he'd last seen Roxas and other members of his community. But it had also been the longest he'd been apart from any of them. It was difficult for Sora to reconcile the prospect of long-term isolation that perhaps might even be permanent after a life spent enjoying the constant company of others.

This was probably why he so fiercely yearned to close what remained of the distance between them, likely the reason Sora wanted to lean forward and wrap his arms more firmly around the gaunt shoulders of the boy in front of him. It was also possible the action would be met with flinching rebuke and demolish any progress he'd made in endearing himself to Riku, leaving Sora unsure if the risk was ultimately worth it.

As if in response to his mental parley, a sound issued, distant and low. In a gradual swell it rose, one howl met by a supplemental second, a harmonic third, then more. Collectively mournful, they were performed at a tonal register that made the muscles of Sora's throat tense, and his chest ache with unidentifiable longing. Beneath his hand, Riku turned his head, what remained of his meal long forgotten as eyes lifted, gaze directing itself out past the fire and toward the forest in the distance.

"Don't worry. They won't come near us as long the fire stays strong." Fingers still forging exploratory, parallel paths from Riku's head down to his neck as he spoke with conviction about which he felt internally far less sure, Sora tried to keep his voice steady. It'd do no good to share his fears with Riku. Even if he managed to understand them and share Sora's growing concerns, there would be nothing he could do to allay them or offer comfort beyond his own steadfast presence. "We won't leave here tomorrow until the sun is fully out to guide us."

There was no indication that Riku had heard his comments, let alone fully grasped them, and it was Sora who pulled himself away first, hand reluctantly dropping to his side as he stood. He made his way back to his previous location, lowering himself into a cross-legged position near his food and the fire.

They finished their meal in silence, Riku remaining at the front of the cave even after Sora had retrieved his tokenand moved further into the shelter's interior. Long after Sora curled up and gave in to nagging exhaustion, Riku persisted, profile illuminated by the blaze of glowing embers, strands of hair dancing around his shoulders at the behest of the night's breeze, eyes wide and searching and keenly trained on Aske's spherical form as though passing silent secrets between the open ears of a trusted friend.

o - o

He was already sweltering by the time Riku lowered himself down beside him, his muscles aching, mind a disoriented haze from a full stomach and the abrupt interruption of prior unconsciousness. At first, Sora was unable to reconcile his surroundings, found himself pressing against Riku, seeking comfort and believing with every fiber of his being that it was Roxas who he was sleeping next to.

But the frame behind him was larger, the chin resting against the crook of his shoulder more sharply angular.

Stirring, eyes still closed, Sora extended an arm out into the dark, fingers a subtle flutter of movement, palm blanching as it flexed enough to make the joints in his arm audibly protest. Finding purchase on nothing tangible, a low murmur issued in conjunction with the trembling ripple of a full-body shudder.

 _So-ra._

The queer, unspoken inflection settled into his mind. Low and throaty, it offered a strange sense of comfort when coupled with the increasing pressure of Riku's chest against each prominent link of his spine.

He wanted to turn and lay claim to it, both of these familiar if oddly uttered syllables. He wished he could curl into himself and bury his face in the soft folds of his outer garment that Riku still wore. But the air already around him felt stifling and humid, physically paralyzing, and he found his body incapable of further movement.

He wanted his mother. He needed to know that Kairi and Tidus and Wakka were sleeping at nearby hearths. Even Cloud's air of ever-present impassiveness would have been sufficient to offer some form of necessary comfort.

But, more than anything, Sora desperately longed for…

"I miss my brother…"

The words were summoned from a dry throat, whispered through cracked lips as a feverish shudder overtook him again, one foot notably inducing more discomfort than the other. Behind him, the rise and fall of another's chest, the heat increasing as the Riku's chin rose from his shoulder, readjusting itself until Sora could feel the caress of his measured breaths against the shell of his ear.

Despite the heat both their bodies were generating, Riku's breath felt refreshingly cool against his flushed skin, a repeated relief with every successive exhalation of air.

 _I miss my brothers._

Set apart from the realm of the physical, the unearthly tone echoed, unspoken but somehow still comprehensible. The words repeated in Sora's head, fell over themselves in their eagerness to be heard and acknowledged, like the earnest prayers of someone well aware that the spirits were often occupied with other, unrelated undertakings.

It took him longer to realize their two sentences were different, that he was thinking of Roxas but the final word that Riku returned had been offered in plural.

In a rapid fluttering of lashes, Sora's eyes opened. They raced the narrow periphery of stone around them, searching, scrutinizing, not entirely focusing. While dark, the glowing embers of distant fire offered a sliver of light into the inner confines of their shelter. Still, his sight was contentious, the shapes of his surroundings blurred at the edges, mind still slow, thoughts sluggish.

In front of him, a figure materialized, body translucent and stooped in a manner that was almost a trademark of the boy lying behind him. Like Riku, this too was a boy, head inclined, what Sora could see of his features otherwise distinct, with tufted hair a familiar color of disheveled yellow.

Startled, Sora opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss. This was a dream he told himself, lifelike but imaginary, brought on perhaps by the interim state between being asleep and fully awake.

Riku pulled away. They remained lightly touching, but Sora felt the separation as an insurmountable chasm between them. Unbidden, the trembling returned and his thoughts leapt away from the apparition, homing in on the last thing Riku had said, even while his gaze remained fixed on slumped shoulders, a lowered head, and the mess of blond hair in front of him.

"Your brothers?"

 _My brothers_ , the voice confirmed. Although still strangely accented, it was assured and smooth. _They are coming for me._

In front of him, the figure lifted his chin, and Sora took in a shaky breath.

Roxas.

His expression was curious, eyes starkly calculating. But it was his brother; Sora could be certain about that much. Paralyzed by heat and muscle weakness, no longer able to reach out, his heart clenched, left him momentarily breathless, fingers an ineffectual repetition of seize-and-release wretchedness.

 _The journey north is long._

Still watching him, Roxas quirked his head, then inclined it once more, as if agreeing with the words vibrating at the very base of Sora's throat. Behind him, he felt Riku tense.

 _And perilous._

Blue eyes rose, refocused up and over Sora's shoulder. When Roxas next spoke, Sora couldn't discern which of them was his intended audience.

 _Are you ready to be strong?_

In the distance, a doleful howl, indistinguishable as element or animal, and Roxas smiled. There was warmth in the expression but it seemed somehow ineffectual. More inhuman baying, this time accompanied by the sharp sting of wind against exposed skin that left Sora shaking as he pressed chin to chest, eyes downcast, shivers wracking a frame that longstanding hunger had grown markedly thin.

He might have surrendered to unconscious again in his attempt to outlast the howling, unnatural wind, but Sora couldn't be certain. Whatever the case, when he next looked up through bleary eyes, Roxas was gone. Once again, the shelter was quiet, save for Riku's steady breathing and the pulse of his own unsettled heartbeat across both painful, thrumming temples.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** : The italicized words used in the first section of this chapter come from a song called "Daniel's Joik", written and sung by Swedish artist Jon Henrik Fjällgren, a member of the indigenous Sami people off of whom I've loosely based Sora's community in this story. If you'd like to hear it sung, the song's available on Spotify and YouTube, and well worth a listen.

* * *

 _Hey ah no yo na no yo_

The song started quietly, a subtle hum amid the buzz of others around him. Eyes on the communal fire as its spectrum of colors twisted and danced above the kindling that maintained its brightness, Sora recognized Weaver's resonate timbre without effort. His was a voice that was a natural part of every group ceremony.

The line repeated, rolled over itself, building with a recurrent, natural fervor, and others around him soon chimed in, simultaneously harmonizing with the simple vocals as much as they were offering encouragement for Weaver to continue.

 _Hey ah no yo na na ne_

Sora knew the song well, understood its layers of longing built upon a collective grief for those they'd lost in past seasons as much as he appreciated the intermixing of faint, rising strains that implied an unspoken hope that their loved ones were no longer suffering. It inspired indescribable feeling that coalesced in mental pictures, directing his thoughts to friends who were no longer with him, to Roxas whose continued health remained so tenuous.

It was the image of his brother, fleeting but clear, that urged him to sing, voice hushed, tone uncertain as he sought the appropriate notes. Behind him, another voice joined in, higher and more assured. Turning, Sora saw Kairi, chin lifted as she sung, eyes an ambit from sad to silent acceptance of the personal tragedies none of them were capable of preventing.

Swinging his legs over his stone seat, Sora took a moment to appreciate the fire's heat against his back. It tempered evening air that was by all accounts freezing, while he worked to match his voice with his friend's in melodic complement.

 _Man de moi ta da dem — mo mo vee di em_

Hands outstretched, Kairi reached for him. As Sora let himself be pulled up, he noted the sheen at the corners of her eyes, the way her gaze shimmered with welling tears as she glanced at the sky above them. Her tone wavered, voice slowed. Out of respect, Sora lapsed into silence, their hands still clasped together between them. He followed her eyes up into the night sky and took in the aurora lights with a sense of somber awe.

He never tired of seeing them, though they were seasonal, routine, lighting the sky with an inspired palette of greens and blues and every color otherwise in the colder months. They spoke of safety and stability, of a communal resting period where they lived off the food gathered during warmer months, supplemented by occasional hunts. For Sora, this season also spoke of change, for it was the last one where he would be considered a youngling, the interim in his status between tyke and adult. This was the final season he would be left with the children and elderly as the hunters took their mid-winter leave in the pursuit of supplementary food. As a full-grown member of his community, next year he would hunt too.

As the voices swelled around him, Sora pulled Kairi closer, stroking the fur-lined material of her outer coat as her shoulders trembled. She'd remained so stalwart throughout the summer months and the impromptu burial for those Aerith hadn't been able to help, never once complaining about the increasing distances they'd had to travel to find adequate food sources. There'd been murmurs among them that Cloud would announce a permanent departure from Summer Home that season. The fact that he yet hadn't spoke more to his deep-seated reticence than poor leadership. It also meant one more challenging warm season seeking food from a supply that was already well diminished while he no doubt took a team of trusted elders to choose a new site to settle for subsequent seasons.

For Kairi, it meant one more summer of bitter memories, because the Summer Home that Sora so loved was the same place where she had lost her mother to the sickness Roxas had thus far managed to overcome each time he fell ill himself.

The song hit a peak, then ebbed. With inherent ease, Sora picked it up again and sang in soft tones as Kairi cried, face buried into one shoulder and the folds of his coat. Unconsciously, they moved as one, a gentle, unified sway in the shadow of a growing fire, beneath the charged luminescence of an ever-changing sky and snow-capped mountains rising in every direction around them, as Kairi grieved her mother and Sora wondered how long he had left before their situations were reversed. Even with his unwavering faith in the goodness of spirits, Sora knew the realities of his brother's condition.

As if summoned by mere thought, a flash of yellow crossed his vision and Sora looked up, cheek yet pressed against the side of Kairi's head, hands still working a comforting pattern from her shoulders on down her back. It came to him again, out of the corner one eye, the willowy figure, with yellow hair flowing in a trail behind her. Sora blinked, then turned toward the fire where he'd last sighted her, heartbeat increasing as an image of a steep creek embankment within a dying forest formed in the back of his mind.

She rounded the fire along with the other dancers, and Sora realized it was simply an adult community member, hair pinned back and concealed under the tawny, spotted pelt of a wildcat. The trembling resumed but Kairi had vanished in front of him, ceding to Roxas now stood beside him, and Sora realized the tremors were coming from somewhere deep within himself.

For a time, neither boy spoke. Sora remained content to watch the dancers, to try and quell the tremors, as much as to gain comprehension of their significance on his own terms.

Out of the din, a rustling sounded around him, like a bird taking flight, wings a whispered beating before it caught an upwind air stream. Shifting his gaze away from the fire, Sora looked around, searching for the source of the flapping sound, but only Roxas stood beside him, unmoving, simply looking at him.

Their eyes met, and brother took in brother before Roxas turned his head in the direction of the girl dancing by the fire. Sora too found his eyes drawn back to the performers, as though at his brother's silent behest.

"He saved your life, you know."

Although Roxas didn't elaborate, in his mind's eye Sora saw Riku clearly enough, all matted hair and hunched shoulders, eyes cast down, stance submissive. Recollection of the three birds came next; the conclusion that Riku had caught them soon followed, however unfathomable. He still couldn't reconcile how someone so physically challenged could achieve much of anything, but the evidence had been plain, laid out for him upon his return from the forest.

"I know. The birds were a blessing." Sora nodded, eyes still on the crackling blaze. "The spirits surely favor him."

He felt the weight of Roxas' gaze, as sure as the knowledge that his brother had turned back to regard him. Still transfixed by the dancers, it took Sora a beat longer to look over. When he did, Roxas held a wry expression that seemed lordly. Almost knowing.

"That's not what I meant."

The sound of the wildcat's warning growl vibrated at the base of Sora's throat. Uncomfortable, he swallowed. Roxas spoke again before he could think of an answer to respond with.

"Do you still have my token?"

Surprised at the change of topic, Sora hesitated, hand moving away from his side just slightly before he reached into his pocket, fingers connecting with the smooth object, then caught and held it out to Roxas, palm up. Despite its round appearance, the stone felt lighter in his palm, its curves more angular and sharp without any visual evidence to explain the odd texture.

Seemingly pleased, Roxas smiled and Sora felt the ground shift under his feet, along with the unsettling sense that the earth might soon split open beneath him.

"Good", Roxas replied, expression blithe as the voices of community members echoed around them, rose in a controlled crescendo before ceding to devout silence, and the earth hissed and groaned like an injured animal beneath them both. "Keep it with you. Make sure to stay close to Riku."

o - o

Fluttering. The soft caress of wind against his face, followed by a rustled flapping. With considerable effort, Sora opened his eyes and saw the bird. Disoriented, he stared through bleary vision, wondering why it didn't take flight in the face of his movements, however slow and laborious.

His head was pounding, every limb aching, his foot in particular. With a quiet groan, Sora pushed himself up onto an elbow and tried to will his vision into finer focus. It was only then that he recognized the figurine, facing him but more than an arms reach away. Confused, he pressed his free hand to his chest, mindful of where he'd last stored it even though it was still in plain view in front of him.

Behind him, rustling of a different sort, the sound of a quiet yawn cut off as Riku mimicked his rising motion and pressed up against him, chin lightly resting on the curve of his shoulder. Although he already felt warm, somewhat feverish, Sora shivered at their newfound closeness. He felt Riku's lips brush the base of his throat and linger, silvery strands of hair visible out of his peripherals.

"Riku…"

The name was murmured through dry lips, formed out of a rawly sore throat that internal logic couldn't account for. He'd eaten well enough last night, Sora reasoned. It followed that he shouldn't be feeling such discomfort now.

For a breathless moment, Riku remained, chest pressed firm against the blades of Sora's shoulders, lips moving against the side of his neck, not so much offering affection as uttering a prayer, silent but suffused with intuitive reverence.

Warring emotions took hold, from the urge to turn and embrace the boy behind him to the more immediate need to lower himself back onto the stone ground and preserve physical resources. As Riku moved away, Sora felt a jolt of loss, even though Riku hadn't gone far, and he could still feel eyes on him, less suspicious now, perhaps, but ever cautious.

Stronger than anything though, Sora realized, was the immanent desire for—

"…water."

He felt Riku shift behind him, then rise to a hunched upright. His vision blurred as Riku moved away from him, and for a sickening instant Sora thought Riku might vacate their shelter entirely and leave him to fend for himself. Near the entrance, Riku crouched, his back to Sora as Sora strained to keep him in view. When he rose, he was holding something shapeless in his arms. Sora watched as Riku approached him, then lowered his near empty water pouch to the ground before him.

Sora savored every sip of what was left, and the cool liquid was effective in soothing his dry throat. By the time he'd drained the last drops he could squeeze out, he was feeling better, revitalized and able to think more clearly.

Through it all, Riku silently watched, his expression its customary closed and unreadable. Although he visibly tensed when Sora pushed himself up to standing, he didn't retreat.

"Thank you."

Leaning forward, Sora retrieved his figurine and stole another look at Riku. Tempted to ask if it'd been him who had moved it, despite lacking the requisite fine motor skills to lift it unnoticed from his coat pocket, the words died in Sora's throat as he made another observation that demanded his more immediate attention.

"Your arm…"

Figurine pocketed and soon forgotten, Sora headed closer to Riku. Eyes darting toward the entrance, Riku seemed to be considering prospective escape routes.

"It's okay." Sora tried to keep his voice composed. "I'm not angry. I just want to take a look."

Settling in next to Riku, Sora studied the arm of the borrowed coat, now held protectively close to Riku's chest. A jagged pattern traveled the length of the sleeve nearly from forearm to shoulder, the leather frayed, torn into uneven ribbons all the way through to reveal a partial view of Riku's skin in some places.

Still seated but straightening his upper body, Sora reached out, took hold of Riku's wrist, and drew it closer to him so he could inspect the coat more carefully. Although Riku allowed the contact, anxiousness remained, both in his expression and body's posture, and Sora came to the quick conclusion that the cuts had not been made by any kind of blade he was familiar with. That left the alternative of an encounter with a sizable animal.

Sora looked up. "Did something attack you yesterday while you were hunting?"

Riku's tense expression didn't change. It offered Sora no clearcut answers.

He slid one hand upward, fingers slipping beneath the larger strips of leather and gently lifting so he could inspect the skin beneath it. Abrasions came into view, angry and red but not deep enough to split the skin or require immediate treatment, and Sora's second theory was confirmed. These scratches had been made by an animal of some sort — a large one, from the looks of it.

"They must sting." His voice held empathy. "I wish I had a salve I could put on them."

Riku's eyes lifted and settled on Sora. They were unusually reflective, in a sense also calming. It was like looking at the glassy surface of still water.

Appearances could be deceiving, however; Sora knew this well. Beneath seemingly tranquil surfaces often lurked strong currents. Idly, he wondered if the same principle held true with people.

"I should make breakfast."

Although it was difficult to turn away, Sora made himself get up, and Riku's eyes lowered, taking the opposite path downward to the floor in front of him. He remained in place until Sora had taken a few steps away, then rose as well, following Sora's path to the shelter's entrance.

The leftover bird remained where Sora had stored it the night before. He set to work choosing a few pieces, then added more kindling to the fire. It wasn't until he'd set the thigh meat to cook that Sora finally looked up and out onto the plain below him.

Yesterday, it had been a mélange of brown and yellow, covered in a patchwork of dry, brittle grass that led up to the cover of forest. But overnight, it had rained. Below the soft hues of Beiwe's early morning luminance, her consort Torym's work sparkled and shone in a light dusting of snow, the first of the season and a clear indication that winter was fast approaching.

Sora stared across the plain altogether unseeing, temples still thrumming with the beginnings of another headache, face hot despite the stinging cold carried to him on the light breeze. The reverie broke only when Riku sat down next to him, their shoulders brushing momentarily as Riku tried to better situate himself.

The fresh proximity cleared his mind just enough to remember his current responsibilities. After a few steady breaths, Sora moved away from Riku and focused on retrieving their food. They ate in silence, this time a few feet apart from one another, Riku's attention on the meal before him, Sora still studying his torn coat sleeve out of the corner of one eye. From there, his eyes drifted lower, noting the cross-legged position Riku had adopted that matched his own before his gaze settled on what was visible of bare legs and feet.

He blinked, trying to give his mind time to catch up with the image his eyes had just conveyed to it. His thoughts were muddled, mind wandering from one consideration to another without any apparent order. Ultimately, but with atypical effort, it came to him.

"You're going to need foot coverings before we can leave. The ice won't be kind to your feet."

In his head, Sora formed Riku's retort as a curt reminder that he'd been traveling over terrain that was just as unforgiving long before their paths had crossed. As it stood, the look Riku responded with involved brows furrowed and a momentary wrinkling at the bridge of his nose, his disdain for once rather simple to interpret.

Sora met it with a stern look of his own.

"They must be covered. No arguments."

As the cold persisted and took even firmer hold for the duration of the long winter season, discomfort would be the least of Riku's worries if his feet remained exposed to the elements. He might be ignorant of such realities, but Sora certainly wasn't.

How to make foot coverings with the limited supplies he had at his disposal though? As Sora surveyed the space around them and took mental stock of what materials he still possessed, his eyes fell on the square of leather he'd used the day before, first to redirect the creek's current when he was fishing, then as a means of steaming the birds Riku had killed for their dinner. Reaching for it, he estimated its proportions, then studied what he could see of Riku's feet, half concealed as they were beneath his knees due to his current, cross-legged position.

He didn't have a sewing bone, or the stretchy tendons typically used to connect strips of leather together. There was the thicker variant of his coat string, however, and another coat pocket he could spare.

Mind made up, Sora retrieved his knife, taking care to move in a way that Riku wouldn't interpret as threatening, then flipped his coat up and went to work detaching the second pocket, stripping it apart to form the same flat surface that he'd already created once before a day ago. He halved the string that had once cinched at his waist, placing his knife off to one side before making his way over to Riku, shoe-making supplies in hand.

Through this all, Riku had stayed in place, consuming the last of his breakfast and watching while Sora worked. It wasn't until Sora turned toward him that his eyes widened just enough to compliment an expression of growing alarm. Uncrossing his legs, he picked himself up and shuffled away, toward the other side of the shelter's entry as Sora slowed, facing setting into a frown.

"I'm just trying to help."

The statement was laced with disappointment as Sora tried not to get frustrated. If their situations were reversed, he reasoned, if it was he who found himself incapable of being understood and having to endure the physical challenges Riku struggled with, maybe his reactions would be similar. Slowing, Sora took a breath in, felt a bite of cold air sting the back of his throat, then organized his thoughts into words he thought might be easiest for Riku to process.

"It rained last night." He shot a pointed look toward the plain in the distance, then returned his gaze to the boy before him. "The ground is cold and your feet need to be covered."

He lifted one foot, wiggling his ankle a little to illustrate. "I'm going to make something like this for you before we leave."

Although Riku had followed Sora's gaze toward the plain, he hadn't looked back to catch the subsequent action and Sora was soon forced to lower his foot to the ground to maintain his upright balance.

As Riku continued to look toward the forest, Sora waited for a reaction that didn't seem primed to arrive. Half-tempted to vent his frustration, but knowing full well it'd only serve to worsen the already tenuous nature of their relationship, Sora fingered the two swatches of leather and followed Riku's gaze out across the plain.

In the distance, there was movement. By the edge of the forest, something much darker than the yellowing vegetation shifted, seemed almost to be pacing a set interval before retracing its steps.

It was this brief pause that helped Sora estimate the creature's dimensions, to surmise that it was not only moving on four legs but it was large. Approximately the size of the wildcat, the shape of this animal was different, less blocky. It was taller at the shoulders, neck and legs longer, but also on the lean side.

"Is that…" Foot coverings momentarily forgotten, Sora made his way to the shelter overhang, past the remains of their meal and beyond the fire, brows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes and tried to make out more detail. He stole a glance at Riku, whose gaze remained fixed on the edge of the forest, before looking back across the barren land. "It looks like a wolf."

A soft sound met his ears, low, almost mournful, and Sora turned. He studied Riku and an expression that, though no longer plainly anxious, still seemed subtly troubled.

"It's alright. It won't come near us."

At his comment, Riku looked up, both brows rising as one. It gave him the appearance of doubtfulness, like he didn't fully believe Sora's statement.

"Wolves are smart, and it can see there are two of us. We'll be fine, promise." Sora tried to convey reassurance with his words, then waved the materials he was still holding. "Now sit so I can fit these to your feet. We should think about leaving soon."

This time Riku complied without protesting. Relieved, Sora got to work.

It soon became clear his attempt at fashioning foot coverings would be rudimentary at best. Members in his community devoted considerable time to make clothing, to ensuring seams were straight and fabric squares were positioned to provide the best fit and comfort. Not only did Sora lack proper materials to line the insides and stitch together their corresponding exteriors, the leather he did have wasn't large enough to extend across the entire length of Riku's feet anyway.

Doing his best with what he had to work with, Sora made sure the pads of Riku's feet were covered as uniformly as possible so he'd at least be able to walk across the icy earth. From there, he used the halved coat strings to secure the wraps in place through a series of criss-cross knots across Riku's arches over both prominent ankles.

Once done, Sora rocked back onto his heels. "Try walking so I can see if they stay in place."

Again, no protest from Riku as he stood and ambled his way around the shelter entrance. Every few steps, he paused, one foot hesitantly rising, and Sora could tell the coverings felt awkward. To his relief, Riku didn't make an attempt at removing them.

After a time, Riku lowered himself back down, far enough away that Sora couldn't reach out and touch him. Sora watched as Riku copied his cross-legged position again, the movements awkward, expression hinting at frustration as he tried to arrange his knees into the proper position that Sora had achieved so effortlessly.

Despite himself, Sora was only half successful at concealing a smile. The movements were exaggerated, more than a little humorous to him. In short supply over the past couple days, even the briefest instance of amusement was much needed and welcomed by Sora at this point.

Suddenly recalling the forest interloper, Sora looked back out over the plain, breath held as he concentrated on seeking out the creature, curious to see if it was still pacing along the border under cover of winter-resilient foliage.

This time, he saw nothing, no matter how carefully he scanned the area, and Sora was quick to note that Riku's attention hadn't wavered from the new foot coverings he still seemed overtly displeased with.

"We'll leave soon." As he spoke, Sora rose, moved back toward the fire, and began collecting his few belongings. He pocketed the knife, then set to work extinguishing the fire. "If we set a fast pace, we might be able to reach the base of the mountain by nightfall."

Left unsaid was what a brisk pace entailed. Considering Riku's awkward gait, Sora already knew this was where they'd have trouble. Even in the summer months when days endured longer, he wasn't convinced they could travel the full distance in the timeframe he so desperately needed.

These were not concerns to broach with Riku. Even in the off-chance that he fully understood Sora's lingering worries, it would do no good to share this particular burden. As Sora straightened and moved away from the dying fire, he paused only a moment. In that time, one arm rose to his chest, index finger tracing the wingspan of his spiritual token. Sora sent a silent prayer for safe passage, then resumed his preparations, thoughts cycling through the trials of the past few days until, inevitably, they returned to the one thing that mattered most and an image once again formed, of blue eyes and blond hair, of a smile he desperately hoped he would one day see again by the end of this long journey.

o - o

Beiwe was at her celestial peak when it started to snow. Large, woolly flakes fell around them as they walked, at first dissolving as they landed on coats warmed by their respective body heat. As the afternoon wore on, clouds formed above them and a chill set in that had Sora hunching his neck into rounded shoulders, arms wrapped around himself, head bowed as he walked beside Riku. It soon became necessary to lean his weight forward, into wind that was quickly becoming stronger as they traversed a gradual incline, mountain range still looming before them at a significant distance.

Snow began to stick to both the ground and their coats as the sun grew hazy-opaque in the face of thickening cloud cover. Although Sora didn't speak, said nothing about the pace he was letting Riku set for them, his thoughts were heavy with the knowledge that they would be nowhere near their planned destination by nightfall, even if they doubled their pace from here on out.

He tried to think of other things, to comfort himself with the knowledge that they at least had another meal to share, maybe two if they carefully rationed. They also had a generous supply of water, having stopped by the creek where Sora had recently hunted for fish. Throughout that initial journey, Sora had remained on guard, eyes open and ears straining for any indication that the wildcat was still in the vicinity, even on the lookout for the wolf they'd spotted earlier that morning. Their walk had been uneventful, however, the sounds of the forest typical of those heard in the absence of four-legged predators.

Even so, the ghostly image of a woman dancing at the peripherals of his vision cycled in and out of his thoughts. It blended with the huntress dancing around his dreamscape fire, intermingled with images of Roxas and Kairi, and a feeling of unassailable loss that bolstered the unease he'd been feeling with increasing frequency. From time to time, his gaze wandered over to Riku, would settle on the pattern of claw marks that ran the length of one coat sleeve, and Sora would remember how many of his questions had been left unanswered. Although the presence of another person was its own measure of comfort, the challenge of communicating with someone who had yet to speak beyond seemingly preternatural instances in the dead of night when he was half asleep remained its own form of isolation.

Regardless, he had little to discuss anymore, beyond a few quiet, navigational directives, uttered through cracked lips and cheeks that ached from the forbidding sting of cold. Despite their slow pace, Sora was grateful that the makeshift foot coverings had stayed in place, that Riku hadn't tried to remove them at some point throughout the day. Apart from a gait that included the occasional pause to raise a foot, then shake it before continuing on, Riku showed no other signs of discomfort with the terrain or weather. When the snow flurries started, he'd simply dropped his head, but his pace had remained otherwise steady.

As the day wound down and the wind picked up speed, it was Sora who was falling behind, the limp from his sore foot more pronounced, breath coming in increasingly raspy gasps as gale-force air pelted flecks of ice and snow against his exposed face. Although his cheeks were numb and stinging, the rest of his body felt hot, almost unbearably so, and Sora found himself mentally grappling with the competing logic of knowing he needed to keep himself covered and the urge to remove his coat so he might have an easier time breathing.

He couldn't say how much time passed between the first observation and the subsequent, but the next time Sora looked up he realized it was no longer Riku who was hindering their pace. In fact, Riku was several steps ahead of him, occasionally glancing over one shoulder to keep Sora in his sights before continuing to lead them onward.

When Riku next looked back, their gazes met. Sora came to a full stop and Riku followed suit, silhouette outlined in the muted light of a partially blocked sun now descending toward the horizon, a sure sign that the short day would soon cede to nightfall.

"I think…" His first words were too soft, likely lost in the wind between the both of them. Wetting his lips, Sora tried again. "I think I need to stop and rest. If that's alright."

He watched as Riku's eyes moved away from him and scanned the area. It was mostly composed of rocks, of the occasional tree and narrow fissures splitting the ground, most likely a result of the quake that had upended the earth just a few days ago. With an abrupt jerk of his chin, Riku turned and made his way toward a cluster of large rocks. The formation rose upward like a forest of stone, and Sora stopped to consider the marked similarities before continuing forward on feet made clumsy by cold, minor injury, and fatigue in pursuit of Riku.

At the nearest rock, Riku paused, watching Sora approach out of the corner of one eye, chin otherwise inclined toward his chest in the same position he'd adopted once snow had begun falling. When Sora got closer, Riku turned and disappeared behind the first stone, then waited again for Sora to catch up. They made their way further into the craggy labyrinth via this stop-and-go process, changing course with enough frequency that Sora was soon unable to point out the way they'd initially entered. Bony weary and still trembling, he also didn't particularly care at this point either, just hoped that Riku would stop sometime soon before his legs gave out from sheer exhaustion.

A few turns later, Riku did just that. Pulling alongside a cluster of rocks that formed a slight overhang high above them, Riku lowered himself to seated, watching as Sora started another slow shuffle over to him. The arched formation would shield them from the wind, at least, if not the snow, which capped the tips of each rock in a manner reminiscent of the mountain range that embodied an end to their journey as much as it marked the start of another.

Riku had chosen a site that remained relatively free of the snow that dusted the rest of the ground, shoulder pressed against the smooth center of one stone, the back of his hand idly brushing against one of the makeshift foot coverings that still seemed to induce discomfort. As Sora slid down beside him, he was tempted to remind Riku not to take them off.

A verbal admonishment involved undue effort, so he reached out with both hands instead. Red and stinging from prolonged exposure, small fingers curled around Riku's larger hand, then guided it up and away from the foot covering and over to his lap. Although he was vaguely aware that the action might be interpreted poorly, Sora was too cold, too weary and sore, to consider looking up to measure the other boy's reaction. His gaze was briefly drawn to the tattered coat sleeve, but the ability to conjure even the most basic thoughts about what might have caused such a savage pattern was fleeting, at best.

Now would be the time for both of them to rehydrate, to retrieve what was left of the bird cooked that morning, maybe make a small fire to warm themselves and rest before resuming the journey. In opposition of the logic he'd just struggled to summon, Sora's eyes closed instead and he shrunk into himself, chin tucked into the collar of his inner-layer coat, body trembling from a chill he couldn't quite feel in the midst of heat still emanating from somewhere deep in his physical center.

Beside him, Riku hunched down too, hand still between Sora's interlaced fingers. Faintly, Sora felt himself drawn closer. From there, it took little encouragement to lie in a more horizontal position, knees curled into his chest, head resting on the top of one of Riku's legs. With effort, Sora opened his eyes, saw the rhythmic mist of air expelled at regular intervals above him. For a time, he simply watched it, unable to make the connection between creator and created, thoughts a full jumble of unclear words, of images and even _joik_ lyrics, as Riku remained still above him and Sora stayed curled up next to him, three hands entwined together, all held close to his heart.

He closed his eyes again, felt the distinct sensation of being weightless as the wind howled above his head and drowned out any other distinguishable sounds around him. He neither reacted to being shifted nor gently lowered, didn't hear the labored movements by now emblematic of his traveling companion any more than he felt the soft folds of a familiar, fur-lined coat arranged with care around him.

In the interim stage of asleep and awake, Sora floated, and Sora soared, and by the time his eyes fluttered open, he was no longer cold, for better or worse. From the prone angle in which he woke, his eyes opened to the aquamarine luminescence of an aurora night sky, sight blinded by innumerable stars visible beyond the stones and earth surrounding him. The wind was still howling, but Sora could now hear a subtle tune in it, carried to him on single syllable words infused with a mournfulness that was inherently familiar.

Because loss was an ancient concept, as much as it was a pervasive part of daily life. And the world itself picked no personal favorites, remained impartial to those who suffered under its boundless auspices. Sora understood this on an instinctive level.

Death was just as unbiased, albeit more versatile. Sometimes it came via disease that spread among his people too fast for Aerith to successfully counteract, other times meted out by the teeth and claws of the land's natural predators. Very rarely, it arrived by age alone, which was an unkindness in itself, the recurring farewells to loved ones who'd passed on first in equal parts affecting and cruel.

And sometimes, Sora realized, as he thought of Summer Home's blue-green waters, as stars above him reflected their infinite, secret wisdom in the dark pupils of his eyes, death was carried on streams of the wind bearing down on a shelter made of stone, as patient as it was secure in the knowledge that a reprieve of this nature was, at most, only temporary.

Gaze still fixed upward, Sora reached out, one hand seeking Riku while the other cupped the swell of his remaining coat pocket and the figurine stored within it. One finger brushed something soft, pliable, and Sora drew it closer as he made an attempt at redirecting his gaze to identify what he'd just acquired. Curling onto his side, he studied the material, sluggish thoughts struggling to identify the newly fashioned article he knew should have been instantly unmistakable. After a few tense breaths, it came to him, might even have turned his stomach if there'd been anything substantial left in it.

He was holding one of the foot coverings he'd made for Riku.

In an instant, Sora shot up, eyes frantically searching. Even in the lower visibility of early evening, the second abandoned foot covering was easy enough to spot a few paces away. It took only a moment more to recognize the extra layer he'd been curled under as the outer coat he'd lent to Riku just a day and a half earlier.

Wind still baying its woeful refrain, Sora felt an icy hand of panic grip his throat. Merciless, it compressed as he tried to calm his increasingly shallow breaths and the pyretic sense of hysteria that was forming beneath his ribs, rising steadily upward by the second.

Riku wouldn't have left him, Sora tried to tell himself. They'd been through too much. And this couldn't be happening, not if they wanted to survive the night, make it to the base of the mountains, and reunite with his community. They _needed_ each other.

On shaky legs, Sora stood, his balance faltering in response to his bruised foot, both hands pressing against the stone behind him to steady himself.

Beyond the whipping wind and the flurries of snow still fluttering around him, Sora sensed nothing that might indicate Riku was nearby, and a needling voice in the back of his mind began picking apart the mental assertion he'd so recently presented as indisputable fact.

 _Did_ they truly need each other? Or would it be more accurate to say Sora needed Riku? While it was true that he'd made the fire that had provided some sense of short-lived security, it'd been Riku who had provided the meals that'd kept them going over the past handful of hours, Riku who'd retrieved his cast-off kindling and supplies, maybe even fought off a wildcat and come away with a mere handful of superficial scratches to show for it.

It'd also been Riku who'd offered him the necessary companionship that'd kept him hopeful, even if he only spoke when Sora was on the verge of fatigue-induced unconscious.

If their roles were reversed, could he honestly say Riku had needed anything or anyone over the past two days as much as Sora had him?

As if in agreement, the wind rumbled behind him, and Sora pressed his cheek against the stone he was leaning against, dejected. While the cold surface provided some relief from the feverish heat his body was producing, his disposition remained somber, thoughts settling into an indefinite negative.

He'd been holding out hope that his community had survived the quake, believing it with such steadfast confidence it now all seemed foolish. If not for Riku, it was unlikely he'd have even survived the night between his hunger and developing fever, which by logical extension meant there wasn't much chance that Roxas had fared much better. He'd spent so much time turning a blind eye to reality, to beseeching spirits whose only clear message was enduring silence to his many, heartfelt pleas, and where had it gotten him? He was sick, alone now also, and nowhere close enough to the mountains to realistically believe he could make it to Winter Home without the aid of someone much stronger and in far better health.

Although his vision flickered in and out of blurred focus, Sora remained fully blind to the presence of freshly falling tears until he blinked and felt the liquid resistance of their half frozen trails down either side of his face. Even then, he didn't reach up to rub at them, indifferent to his own, abiding misery. Nothing mattered, not even presenting a front of outward confidence, especially when there was no one left to see it.

Above him, the sound of flapping. Although uninterested in the presence of migrating birds, the sudden noise jogged a memory. Dreamlike but indelible, it seemed somehow important. Reluctantly, Sora looked up. He watched as birds flew past overhead, dark and individually oblong in their precise formation beneath the softer hues of the sky above him, the wind now quiet enough to hear the beating of each feathered appendage. The urge to reach for his wooden token was strong, but Sora weathered it. His spiritual guide had done nothing to aid him up to this point. He saw no reason to invoke it now.

Another rumble sounded, low but persistent, as though offering audible dissent to his silent thoughts, and Sora froze, chin still tilted skyward. Because the wind had ebbed to almost nothing, was no longer howling around him, yet the soft sound of hostile growling continued, and he realized it was close.

Slowly, Sora turned, eyes performing the frantic movements that arrant fear alone was ensuring the rest of his body currently resisted.

He didn't have to look far before he spotted the wolf, dark fur that otherwise might have concealed its location offset by stark, yellow eyes, unwavering and fixed directly on him. With rising dread, Sora took a small step back, trying to put some distance between the two of them. The movement elicited another low growl, one edge of the wolf's jowls lifting to reveal the glint of a sharp canine, a visual form of supplemental warning.

The intangible hand once again found purchase on his neck and clenched until the lack of adequate air induced light-headedness. Although the wolf hadn't advanced on him, it was now crouching, haunches slightly higher than its front legs in a posture that implied it might pounce at any moment. Sora knew if it did, he'd only have a fraction of a second to reach for the knife in his pocket and brandish it before sharp teeth connected with his own vulnerable bones and flesh, and the weight of the creature would not only pin him to the frozen ground but render him immobile. In this moment of realization, time slowed, and adrenaline unfogged his thoughts just enough to anticipate the angle that the wolf would meet him. No longer careful to keep his movements slow and deliberate, Sora's hand shot to his pocket, fingers wrapping around the rounded hilt of his knife at the same instant that the wolf took a running leap toward him.

What he hadn't foreseen was the second creature behind him, unnoticed until a split instant before impact, jaw snapping as it missed his throat by mere inches. His fingers remained furled around the knife but the collision had thrown Sora off-balance, and his first defensive stab missed its target as both boy and wolf collectively tumbled to the ground. He didn't have the chance to attempt a second pass as the side of his head connected with the stone arch behind him. A series of frenzied yips followed the weight of canid paws, unforgiving and digging into one shoulder as the world fell out of focus. The initial pain faded as darkness set in, so thick and expeditious that it blotted out even the brightest stars that bore silent witness to the natural course of life and death in a world that picked no personal favorites.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** : Thanks to everyone who's offered comments and encouragement while I worked on this. This story was one of the more challenging projects that came out of AkuRokuRiSo month for me and is different than the themes I usually find myself writing. I'm still not sure how others will react to the way I ended this, but I am sure that this is where the story was leading from the first chapter. Like Sora, in its own way it came full circle.

A playlist of what I listened to on repeat while writing this can be found on my Tumblr. Since FFN likes to muck up links, use nicayall as my username, a forward slash, and then the word lost. I like to think it creates a nice reading atmosphere, if listening to music while reading fic is something you're open to.

* * *

"When the world was young, the gods lived alone, their reign limited to a barren chasm of what we now know as Earth. The waters were empty, and there were no land creatures to concede these beings' sovereignty. Each existed, worlds unto themselves, paths occasionally crossing, existences otherwise void of greater meaning."

The voice was assured, his audience hushed, eyes wide and ears open.

"The sky too was silent, with no one to acknowledge its long-held secrets."

Deep and resonate, the words rolled over one another, beholden to an orator who knew them on a level that was as intimate as it was physical.

"Until…"

Weaver paused, the blue of his eyes augmented by the light of nearby fire. His gaze traveled around the crescent of gathered tykes, inclusive of each in turn. A beat of quiet, and then he spoke again, regarding them now as a whole.

"Unity."

Weaver smiled.

"Then, the birth of all things, including grief."

An undertone of murmurs rose from the children, a gentle undulation of sound before they quieted again. In front of them, Weaver waited, continuing on only when he had their full attention.

"The most ancient form of male and female merged for an interval. From this union, three spirits were formed."

He crouched in front of them, resting forearms upon bent knees. Next to his friends, Sora leaned in, eyes wide, vision filled with the colors of fire and early evening, the cold season's aurora bright in the sky above him.

"Who can tell me their names?"

When no one ventured a word, Weaver scanned the group, eyes ultimately falling on Sora.

"Earth, Water, and Wind."

Although Sora knew the answer as well as any of his peers, he spoke haltingly. Tonight was the first of many in the weeks upcoming in his official transition from tyke to youngling, and perhaps the answer changed with age, he reasoned, or even with his impending, enhanced status within the community.

"Also known as Loam, Sea, and Sky among many other names." Weaver nodded. "Yes, correct. And from this triad of guardians derive all animal representations, one of which each of you will soon be assigned."

Beside him, Kairi brushed her shoulder against his. Despite an initial attempt at maintaining the somber expression he thought was appropriate for this occasion, Sora felt warmth form at his core, filtering out into his limbs. He returned Weaver's smile and spared a gratuitous moment to wonder which element and its corresponding animal Advisor would designate as his.

"But," said Weaver, expression turning serious, "what you have not yet been told is there is duality in everything, even spirits. As Beiwe is to Aske, each may not exist without its antithetical opposite."

Around him, others shifted, exchanged looks with expressions that existed on a spectrum from curious to uncertain. Sora repeated Weaver's words to himself, not positive he understood but eager to absorb anything else offered.

"And there is sentience in all living things, in every animal you can imagine, even the flora. Its existence isn't negated just because you don't personally see it."

Sora considered this, let the information take root and allowed logic to blossom. Animals made immediate sense; they existed the same as he did, communicated with sounds and sought food in much the same manner as his community. Some even formed communal groups themselves and hunted together. Weaver's statement was sound, presented no conflict with already ingrained knowledge.

Plants were a different matter, one that took Sora longer to consider. It seemed Weaver had accounted for this, given his continued silence. Ultimately, Sora came to the conclusion that Weaver was right, that there was a distinction between greens that responded to Beiwe's presence — that lived or died in reliance on it — and other natural landmarks that encompassed their day-to-day surroundings.

"Very soon, every one of you will receive a token," Weaver continued. "You should keep it with you always, and respect the inherent power within it. Use it in times of danger or doubt. Invoke it when you find yourself in need. Your guardian will not forsake you if you have faith."

This Sora already knew, and in many instances had eagerly anticipated. To him, the token Advisor would soon give him was the official signifier that he was growing. Becoming a youngling meant he was not yet an adult, but closer; more importantly, he would no longer be considered a child.

Nearby, Selphie quirked her head, seemed to be considering something. Weaver turned to her, expectant.

"The opposite of our assigned guardian…" Her tone was inquisitive. "What protects us from that?"

Although Weaver nodded, at first he said nothing, took a moment to settle into a more comfortable, cross-legged position in front of them. When he finally answered, he sounded ruminative, words notable for the ambiguity in their meaning.

"That's more complex, a discussion for a later season. You should instead focus on the origins we just discussed, the mechanics of how these spirits were formed." His stance relaxed, expression shifting to jovial, a hint of a knowing smile turning up both corners of his mouth. "I expect most of you are at least a little aware of what I'm referring to."

This elicited giggles from Selphie, smirks exchanged between Wakka and Tidus. Even Sora's cheeks flushed with warmth that had nothing to do with the fire's proximity. Only Kairi remained quiet, features pensive.

"What about Cloud?"

As soon as she'd uttered the words, Kairi bit her lip, ducking her head while others around her fell silent and looked between her and Weaver.

Weaver seemed nonplussed, unruffled in his follow-up response.

"About Cloud and myself? Or did you mean his relations with Squall?"

His tone was gentle, albeit lightly teasing. From what Sora could tell, Weaver didn't seem particularly bothered by the question. Next to him, Kairi looked up and nodded, eyes still not directly meeting Weaver's, a subtle rosy hue coloring both sides of her face.

"Either," she said. "Or…" She looked down again. "Both, maybe."

More titters from the others around them. A quiet tut from Weaver quickly silenced them.

"It's a fair question." His tone was kind, encouraging. "And requires a distinction between coupling solely for pleasure and that which we engage in to increase our numbers, spirits willing."

A topic that had once been taboo for them now seemed fair game, and attentive expressions disclosed their collective interest just as effectively as words spoken.

"There will come a time when each of you start seeing the others differently. This is a natural process. In the coming warm season, you may find yourselves wanting to spend time with some of your peers more than others, to explore the gift of another's company in different ways than when you were younger."

None of this was a new revelation to Sora. Expressions of affection were rarely concealed by the adults in his community. To an extent, it even made sense that he would be in a similar position one day, although this was the first time he'd given it any genuine consideration as it related to himself. When no one seemed poised to ask further questions, Weaver pressed on.

"Some of you will find yourselves drawn more to females, and others males. For me, it was both." He smoothed a fold in his overcoat before gesturing to himself. "But it varies for everyone, in one's preference of gender, the intensity of feeling, even in how it manifests, should it do so at all. This too will be something as unique to each of you as the token Advisor designates."

He left them soon after, some more red-faced than the others, but all with something new to think about for what remained of the fading day.

Sora made his way to Kairi's hearth at the invite of her mother, his thoughts returning to Weaver's comments about budding attraction, mind awash with images of others' expressions of affection that he'd observed in past seasons: Weaver rubbing Aerith's sore shoulders after a long night tending to the ill, and Squall's return from a solo hunting trip, choosing to seat himself next to Cloud by the fire, shoulders brushing, one hand resting comfortably on the knee beside him. Sora considered these physical gestures, and he wondered how his own feelings would shape themselves, what form they might take in the seasons to come.

Sora thought about Weaver and the origin of spirits. As he sat and ate the evening meal at his best friend's hearth, he watched Kairi and wondered how she was incorporating this new information with the past life philosophies they'd both devised to make sense of the world around them when they were still tykes.

In dinner's immediate aftermath, the two walked together at Winter Home's outer boundaries, tired but still too excited by the new freedom this transitional period afforded to return to their hearths and retire for the night.

Though cold, the air around them was still, the sky lit with a bright palette and the occasional twinkling of stars. To Sora, they were reminiscent of Weaver's trademark winks as he divulged secrets to this season's fresh group of younglings.

For a time, they walked in silence, every so often glancing at one another with newfound reticence, unsure how to express the questions at the forefront of their thoughts or whether they were even appropriate to bring up.

As they approached a rocky ledge that overlooked the southbound plain, both stopped to appreciate the sight of blues and greens casting vibrant streaks of light onto the flat land spreading out in the direction they'd traveled from Summer Home.

It was Kairi who ultimately broke the silence.

"I think Advisor will assign me a water creature."

Her voice was soft, expression thoughtful. Out of the corner of one eye, Sora studied her and considered the statement.

"Oh?" A fine wisp of exhaled mist formed in front of him as he spoke, the air crisp and cold but otherwise calm. "What makes you so sure?"

"It's just a feeling." Shrugging, Kairi reached up and tucked a few loose strands of auburn hair behind her ear. "I love the sea, so Water seems right, no matter the animal."

He nodded but kept quiet, assessing her confidence as much as the response itself. If it were as simple as preferring one element over the other, it seemed a straightforward matter to believe his token would also be a creature overseen by Water.

He felt Kairi's eyes on him, but still said nothing, simply waited for her to give voice to the question he had already guessed was coming. A comfortable calm had settled over them, also languor from the large meal, their futures spread out before them and invigorating to consider, even just passively. Their youngling years would be a time of further learning. Then, adulthood, and supporting the hunters, at least in the future Sora envisioned for himself.

"Yours will be Water too." Kairi spoke with more certainty than Sora was feeling. When her declaration didn't break his silence, she turned more fully to him, fingers fluttering against the back of his mittened hand, light as a feather, somehow still inducing a surge of sudden warmth up one arm and down the other. "Don't you think?"

Finally, Sora turned to her, front teeth worrying the interior of his bottom lip. Like Kairi had already surmised, Water was a likely prospect, given his affinity for the sea.

Nevertheless, he felt hesitant to echo her guess, gaze drifting upward again as a light breeze caressed the side of his face. Above him, streaks of light divided the night sky. Darkly reflective, a star shimmered in his dilated pupils, as though in response to a question he hadn't even yet thought to voice.

"I'm not so certain," Sora finally answered.

Another celestial wink, followed by an intangible sense of approval. It was enough of an inherent comfort that Sora found himself at peace with whatever decision Advisor ultimately came to.

He turned back to Kairi and offered a smile.

"Whatever ends up happening, soon enough we'll both know for sure."

o - o

 _We were supposed t—_

 _—didn't expect—_

 _—tracked you for days._

The words filtered to him as a verbal patchwork, not spoken in the traditional sense, oddly accented. He'd heard cadence like this before, from somewhere. In the hazy mental stop-gate between awake and mentally insensate, Sora couldn't recall the source. Thoughts of any sort were an effort, formed more slowly than usual.

Gradually, he heard more of the same atypical non-speech around him, his mind still allocating aural resources. Doggedly still, it categorized words into crucial and superfluous, only processing those deemed essential.

 _Abandoned your family._

 _Killed our grimalkin sister._

 _All for a mere suckling from a pack whose members walk upright, who rend fur from flesh and wear our skulls for their own savage indulgence._

The air was dense with the fury of their accusations, vowels long and glottal, semantics half-growled.

Moreover, the tonality sent a spark of fear circulating his extremities. It tightened his muscles, tensed an uncomfortably raw throat. Every primal instinct told him to flee from the speakers, that his very survival depended on the ability to get as far away as possible.

But Sora couldn't move, couldn't even open his eyes at first.

Not for a lack of effort, his body simply wasn't obeying him. The more he struggled against all-encompassing inertia, the stronger the knowledge that his immobility and helplessness were more physical than mental.

 _I don't want to die._

He wanted to see the speakers, to rise and crane his neck until his gaze settled on them and laid the riddle of their identities to rest.

 _Then stop dreaming. Open your eyes._

He couldn't so much as lift his head. Even cracking his eyes a sliver felt like insurmountable effort, although eventually he did manage it.

At first, his vision was blurred, filled with blues, greens, and aurora purples. These hues fused with an indistinct, starry white that twinkled in and out of focus above him. Too bright, his lids slid shut, lips parting just enough to utter a two syllable word of his own — a name that was almost inaudible.

 _The journey north is long._

His own voice rang forth. In the distance, all other sounds ebbed, not altering in volume so much as they were suddenly muffled, as though something had placed itself between him and them.

 _And perilous._

He wanted his mother, longed for Roxas curled up at the hearth beside him, or for Kairi to twine their fingers and encourage him to dance with her. Even Aerith's mock-stoicism as she tended to community member injuries would have been something he welcomed.

There was something else he wanted, Sora realized, a person specifically, not a member of his community but someone whose presence felt just as essential.

Struggling to summon the name, it momentarily escaped him.

 _He saved your life, you know._

Roxas' voice blanketed him, quiet but auspicious, and Sora struggled against the oppressive burden of his failing body.

 _Make sure to stay close…_

"Riku…"

The word was uttered as an anguished moan, dry throat aching in protest over the harsh sound he'd just produced. It was followed by a full-bodied shudder that tore through him with silent intensity. As the veil of quiet deepened around him, limbs still wracked with the aftershock of unchecked trembling, Sora strove to remain conscious, initially oblivious to the two forms that had materialized nearby.

"Will he live?"

His tremors subsided at the sound of a familiar voice, and Sora's eyes flew open again, first blinking, then blindly searching for his brother with vision that was slow to focus.

Still too bright, his eyes swam with indistinct shapes, with yellow in the distance, and a blue that was closer. Swaying with the slow shake of a head, it reminded Sora of the rhythmic waves off the shores near Summer Home.

"I can't say. I'm just as much an outsider here as you."

The voice spoke in soothing tones, her sentences fluid, each word harmonizing with its successor, songlike in quality. It was also delicate and feminine, the concern in her tone reminiscent of Aerith as she tended to the maladies of the sick and dying. Her smile too held a hint of sadness when it came into focus, the irises of her eyes cerulean, two bodies of liquid movement divided by the pale bridge of her nose.

Yellow approached, and Sora heard a low, bothered hum. As the blurry planes of his vision coalesced, so too did the corresponding frown, Roxas' lips pressing together as he looked between Sora and the woman crouched beside him.

"This is Loam's fault."

"Perhaps." The woman seemed less troubled as she reached out, tracing a crescent-shaped path down Sora's face in profile. The heat his body had been fighting subsided in the wake of her touch, cool and refreshing, like a stream of water flowing across one cheek. "But a good intention twisted to serve another's purpose is less sin than the single-minded hatred that encouraged it."

The boy's expression momentarily darkened, then shifted to something softer, as though chagrined.

"I did everything I could. I tried to intervene."

"I know." Although her eyes remained on Sora, the woman smiled again. "It was a commendable effort, under the circumstances."

Hand rising, she threaded her fingers through the tangles of his hair, lightly pulsing, palm lowering and coming to rest at the crown of his head. A cooling sensation flowed through him as the feverish heat of his core lowered to something more natural. With fresh awareness, Sora swallowed and realized for the first time in a full day that his body wasn't aching and his throat no longer felt sore. Although he hadn't moved an inch since their arrival, he felt lighter now. Unencumbered.

With a delicate gesture of her free hand, the woman beckoned to Roxas, who still hung back. Slowly, he halved their distance before stopping again. With him came the sound of wind, the subtle rustling of feathers and beating of wings. Also, growls, then frenetic yips, lupine and furious, from somewhere in the near distance.

A shuddered breath in, then a pained cry in a tone he recognized.

Distress rising, Sora tried to push himself up, although his current state left him physically incapable of the intended movement. With effort, he rose, elbows bent, arms straining behind him, for a moment stiff and aching. His head throbbed, vision splitting Roxas into multiples, until it felt like blue eyes were surrounding him on all sides. The woman reached forward, helped steady him with a gentle touch, and the feeling of disconnect between mind and body returned. Although he was grateful, Sora kept his eyes on his brother. Still standing a few body lengths away, their gazes locked, Sora's expression pained, Roxas' unwavering, features placid.

Those blue eyes watched him with unknown expectation, brows high below a crown of tousled yellow. The longer they remained, the more erroneous it all seemed, his brother too calm with danger so close, eyes a subtle shade out of sorts. Collecting the evidence as it was successively presented, Sora was left with only one conclusion.

"You're not Roxas."

A small smile met the allegation, welcoming it home like a friend.

"Yes, correct."

 _And from this triad of guardians derive…_

Weaver's wide smile flooded his vision, an invocation of a happier time in his life when food was ample and he understood his place, both among his people and within the world at large. Disoriented, Sora shook his head and his vision splayed. If not for the woman, he might even have lost his balance. As she held him, she murmured a line of words in a language unlike any he'd heard before. Blinking a few times, Sora looked back at the boy in front of him, and searched his memory for the line that had stood out to him from the words these newcomers had so recently exchanged.

"You said this was Loam's fault…?"

Sora repeated the boy's words, reforming them into a question in need of clarification. As the boy took a step closer, his expression seemed rueful.

"Perhaps." He glanced toward the woman. "If Aqua is correct about her earlier inference."

Not following, Sora looked between the two, sensing the significance of their presences, if not entirely able to line all the pieces up yet.

"I don't…"

… _understand. Any of this._

His gaze dropped and he saw his own form in duplicate, curled on his side, knees tucked toward his chest. Bruised and bleeding from a cut on his neck, just a hint that he was still breathing visible in the rise and fall movements of his own thin shoulders, Sora saw that his eyes were closed. The trembling returned, this time derived from somewhere more internal, and Sora pulled away from the woman with hair that reminded him of the sea near Summer Home. He sank to the ground, mimicking the position of his own unconscious figure and felt an ache of physical pain as his eyes shuttered tight against the two of them.

He could no longer see, but he could still hear the boy's movements enough to sense his approach. Even the way Sora imagined him crouching, head inclined and hair falling into his eyes, harkened back to Roxas.

A gentle breeze caressed his face, warm and mild, an aberrance in the current season. It took him a beat longer to realize the recurrent sensation of wind was originating from the boy himself. It wasn't until he felt light pressure against his chest that Sora hazarded another glance up through the cover of his own lashes.

This close, the boy was translucent, his complexion even paler than Roxas at his most direly ill. Arm outstretched, his hand was pressed against the topmost pocket of Sora's coat.

"You still have my token."

The words were quiet, the corners of his mouth rising as though pleased by the observation.

"I got lost." Sora heard the quiver in his own voice as he spoke, but forged on, the need to talk to someone who could speak back overriding his ingrained fear over the identities of these new arrivals. "I needed help."

"And I provided it," the boy returned, his voice smooth. "Land is not my realm, yet I gave you Riku. I opened your eyes to the sentience within all earthly life. You recognized it as intended."

At the mention of his friend, Sora froze. He remembered the anguished cry, noted how sounds remained muffled in the presence of these two. He struggled to rise a second time but failed, arms buckling under his weight, elbows scraping against the rocky earth beneath him, breaths heavy from the effort.

"And now you're letting him die." It was a choked sob, eyes stinging in an attempt to hold back tears. "Why are you still here with me? Go and help him. _Please_."

Behind him, the woman uttered a word that was cut short as the boy held up a hand, eyes never leaving Sora.

"No."

The tone wasn't unkind, but for Sora, a physical blow would have been more merciful. It forced the air from his already struggling lungs, strident in its finality.

Through it all, the boy's expression remained untroubled, brows rising again as he spoke.

"Land is Terra's domain."

He seemed to believe this settled things, but Sora couldn't parse the logic, nor did he want to. All he could manage was a quiet murmur, the repetition of his friend's name over and over, until eventually it died in the depths of his throat, still vibrant but no longer physical: a silent two syllable mantra aligned with the thrumming of a feeble pulse at his throat.

"Terra," the boy repeated, studying Sora as though evaluating his reaction to the word. Sora looked back, expressionless, and the boy inclined his head, the tone next offered even more soothingly uttered. "Loam. It is he who must handle this."

The earth reacted with an answering tremor. A thick silence followed, more impenetrable than the veil that had distorted the sounds of wolves he'd heard earlier.

A hand against his brow. Chill but insubstantial, it offered Sora no comfort as the boy leaned closer.

"You see, I too have a brother."

Like a confession of one lover to another, Wind whispered to him and Sora listened, eyes rising to the sky as a lesson from his childhood returned to him.

 _There is duality in everything, even spirits._

"One who is far less inclined toward altruism when it comes to humans."

 _Each may not exist without its antithetical opposite._

A blink and Wind shifted, hair darkening as his eyes glinted a feral amber, reminiscent of canids not known to show clemency in the midst of a famine. Another brief flutter of lashes and Sora stared as blue once again regarded him, an effortless transition between physical forms.

"The simplest way to wreak havoc on a world in which you are not sovereign is to deceive he who is. Loam meant well, but his trust was easily exploited."

The woman's voice flowed past him, but Sora saw nothing, eyes fixed on the boy in front of him, watching as he nodded.

"Quakes. A dearth of food resources." Wind's expression darkened as he spoke to Sora directly. "Enmity between brothers who love one another."

He sighed, shoulders lowered, prompting a spontaneous current of air against Sora's exposed face.

"I did what I could, but eventually all things end. It is the natural order, an unending cycle, moon and sun and moon again."

He looked away as Sora's lashes fluttered, eyes fully closing this time, thoughts scattering like sand caught in a flurry of wave and wind.

"Soon," said Water, "it will start again."

"The birth of all things." Wind nodded. Fading as he took his leave, he lingered just long enough to finish the decree. "Including grief."

Then, starless dark, the feeling of weightlessness, freedom. A spirit unburdened, finally.

o - o

Cold.

For a time, he knew nothing else. The world stood still and the stars blinked out. There was no sound in this place, no light to prompt him to open his eyes, not an all-encompassing nothing so much as the absence of anything. Lack of a something. Exhaustive.

Memories were abstractions, cerebral vestiges. Feathery wisps, they fluttered above him like ghosts, more sensed than consciously recognized.

There were those he'd once sought, a community he loved, people he was linked to by blood and fellowship.

Their faces escaped him, names of no great import, not even his own. Nothing mattered, except the chill, the unbearable cold.

Then, another presence. A warm weight behind him and heat on his neck.

 _So-ra_ …

Two words, and the tone was hoarse. A slow articulation. Such odd cadence.

But not entirely right, he realized.

Two, yes. But words? Not quite.

So close. He was so close to certain, but just couldn't…

Two gods, he tried again. Moon and Sun, except not. It was two _spirits_ who'd striven to help him. Wind and Water. Right and wrong warring on unfamiliar terrain. Duality.

Two… friends. Yes. A boy and girl singing before a communal fire, their futures spread out before them, nearing adulthood.

Two brothers who'd fought over something foolish, one strong and healthy, the other so often unwell.

Two strangers who were all alone in an unforgiving world, who needed each other now more than ever.

Two trailing tears from eyes still shut tight, a silent acknowledgement of all that he'd lost.

 _Sora._

Eyes fluttered open, discerned nothing, yet they were bright with fresh epiphany.

Syllables. They were two _syllables_ , severed by one deep-throated rumble against the canal of his spine. Made whole through retold echoes, they grew more confident with each successive utterance.

"Yes," he whispered, allowing the tremors of each iteration to lull him further. "I'm called Sora." This time, there was no need to ask the name of the other speaker.

"Riku…"

It no longer sounded exotic, or even foreign: just the appellation of a friend, a companion he trusted.

The weight shifted but remained close, and Sora wasn't afraid he'd be left alone. All that mattered was silvery hair, misted breaths of air, a sense of expectancy for him to continue.

"I'd like to go home now."

Another movement and Sora reached out, arms wrapping around the soft folds of his outermost coat. Fingers twined into themselves, then around a friend, and they were off. Laborious pace abandoned, the landscape blurred around them as the mountain grew large in front of them. Burying his face in the folds of the overcoat, Sora drew in a breath, felt the edges of a carved avian against his chest as the ground rose and fell in time with their swift momentum.

For a time, he knew nothing else. The world was alive and the stars sparkled above. Sound was the rush of wind on his face, light the luminous images of his friends and family behind closed eyelids. Every living memory. Abundance of a something.

The sea at Summer Home. Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie diving for mussels. The smooth surface of a blue stone won in a competition among friends one summer.

Kairi pressing against him as she grieved for her mother. Helping Aerith late into the night tending his brother's illness.

A boy whose actions said more than words ever could, naked and bleeding, desperate and hungry. Alone until they'd found salvation in one another.

And a guardian he'd thought had forsaken him who had instead offered a gift of deliverance from his miserable circumstances. He just hadn't recognized it in the form initially remitted.

He wanted to consider them further, to offer each due consideration in turn. Like waves against his summer home's shoreline, exhaustion washed over him, and it was all he could do to simply hold tight to Riku.

Time sped up, or perhaps it slowed, his senses long numb from fatigue and injury. He was flying at first, ascending the mountain, then gently lowered to solid ground, the collar of his coat folded up as a pillow under one side of his face. He lifted his chin, eyes opening a sliver. Above him, the mountains rose in all directions, purple capped with white in the glow of the aurora.

Curling on his side, he felt warmth against his neck again, a laving away of crust and blood. Comfort.

His eyes adjusted, and he saw fire, a flicker of welcoming orange amidst alpine purple. It was accompanied by a distant shout in a voice he recognized. Familiar. Fraternal.

A hazy figure, a silhouette beneath luminous, tousled yellow. Then others, many taller, all hurrying in his direction.

Midway, they slowed and stopped, a human interim between him and home. With better visibility, he could just make out Aerith, long hair loose and flowing around her shoulders, and Weaver beside her. There was also a girl he'd held close as her shoulders shook, who'd once danced with him, their hands clasped together, her fingers stained red with the remnants of berries. She alone seemed to want to move forward, was struggling against restraining arms as their community's leader stood behind her.

For a heartbeat he waited, then more in a breathless, pulsing series. Still, his people remained where they stood, immobile as though restricted by some unseen obstacle.

The laving subsided, and he saw silvery strands at both corners of his peripherals, felt a gentle nudge at the base of his neck where shoulder met throat, silent encouragement. With quivering arms Sora reached out toward home, hands making ineffectual, seize-and-release repetitions.

Then, a noticeable absence, the return of cold. In the distance, a boy sprinting forward, the human embodiment of Wind himself.

And though he wanted Roxas, Sora also needed Riku. No longer able to sense a second presence, arms trembled, then lowered, his brother's form blurring in and out of focus in the wake of forming tears.

 _Don't leave. Please._

He couldn't speak, couldn't move without effort, could scarcely see clearly. And yellow was nearing, long past skirting around the hands others had thrust out to stop him.

"Rr—"

He tried again, the first syllable catching between cracked lips. Riku had retreated somewhere behind him. But Sora was looking forward, and in front of him there was only…

"Roxas."

A whispered two syllables, the name sounded foreign after his ordeal, but still an unquestionable whole. The embrace was just as comforting, a pale cheek pressed against his, imbued with warm vitality. And it was Roxas who broke first, whose tears tasted of sea salt, a welcome sting against his lips, as Kairi smiled behind them, then helped him up, familiar faces of the others less distinct but closer now, his family. All of them.

Their words came next, a spoken _joik_ , unintelligible at first. Lines repeated, rolling over themselves, building with recurrent, natural fervor. One word superseded the others, its meaning just out of reach but sending him mental images, pictures of fur in earthy colors, of eyes with a wild luster that seemed almost intelligent.

Not until his outer coat was draped over him, and Kairi and Roxas slid his arms over their shoulders, did it finally sink in. Legs tensing, he tried to dig in his heels, to turn and locate his friend. Even a silent stranger was deserving of a home among them. And love. Riku should be here too, Sora thought.

In the distance, a sound issued, low and mournful. In a swell, it gradually rose, and any desire to break away dissolved as Sora registered its import. He felt a breeze against his cheek, warm and mild this late in the season. Ultimately, he had to accept both truths.

An argument, that's what he'd thought had started this. But maybe it was simpler, and all things came to an end before beginning again, a cycle of moon and sun and a pack of wolves calling out to their brother, beneath the domain of a guardian who truly had answered his prayers.

As the howls rose, then fell and resumed in harmonic unison, and the fire crackled before him as they approached it together, Sora looked up at the sky one last time. He offered acknowledgment to Wind, and saw sentience in all things, accepting that perhaps they were all where they needed to be, among their own, finally.

Found.


End file.
